


Umbilical Noose

by hannigramcracker, TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anxiety Attacks, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mentions of Abortion, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Omegaverse, broken BruDick, don't read if you have emetophobia, the platonic DickTim we all deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 12:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7844272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigramcracker/pseuds/hannigramcracker, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick's existed in limbo between his lovers for so long it's simply become his natural state. Unwilling to give up the dreams he's fostered about Bruce for so long- Dick's clung desperately to a man that can't give himself over completely in the way Dick needs, all the while finding comfort whenever Bruce has left him raw in a man he never should have been able to love.</p>
<p>He can't stay like this forever, though- and an <i>accident</i> leads Dick to make the decision he's put off forever, to deal with the death of dreams. Unfortunately, just when he feels like he's making progress, when he could be moving on, life decides that Dick Grayson simply hasn't suffered enough just yet...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TJB: HC and I have been working on this for the past two weeks or so, and this fic honestly consumed our lives. We're both thrilled to get to share it! Please make sure to give the warnings a read before diving in. We're contemplating more in the future- if you're interested give us a shout!

Dick groaned, a broken sound escaping through his gritted teeth as he was jerk forward, the sheer force behind Bruce’s thrust enough to have Dick’s face nearly falling into the pillows. His hands on Dick’s hips were harsh, digging would-be bruises into the omega’s hips, holding like he wanted to  _ keep _ Dick in place, holding like he would rather break him above all other things.

 

Dick pushed back, because he  _ always _ did. Pushed back to meet each thrust as he panted, his body on fire beneath his skin. Bruce always did that to him- burned him. Made him feel like he was alight in every nerve, every fiber down to his ashen  _ soul _ .

 

The alpha leaned over him, boxing Dick in. He was groaning near Dick’s ear, wordless sounds that made him seem like a demon, like a god, like a hellbeast and everything Dick had ever wanted.

 

For these few precious moments, he could be.

 

“ _ Bruce _ ,” he moaned out, hands clutching at the sheets. He wanted to touch himself, wanted a hand around his cock- but Dick was sure if he tried to move, he’d fall off the face of the Earth, tumble out into space until he hit the edge of the galaxy. Sex with Bruce was always like that- he had to  _ hold on _ .

 

Or he’d be lost.

 

Bruce straightened back up, and suddenly he was pulling out. Dick whined, felt wetness on his thighs- his own excitement, enthusiasm, as Dick flipped him over. His back landed with a gentle  _ thud _ against the mattress, his body bouncing once before Bruce was back, between his legs, pulling his dark thighs apart and driving back into him. Dick nearly screamed, kiss-swollen red lips falling open as his head tipped back, his mouth trying to curve into a delighted smile. Bruce’s hands braced in the pillows, on either side of his head, as he loomed over, cock shoving so fast and hard into Dick’s body that Dick couldn’t form a single  _ thought _ .

 

Other than Bruce’s name, that is.

 

Bruce bowed down, nuzzled Dick’s neck, breathing in his overly sweet scent and exhaling a shaking, weak breath. Dick got his legs around his waist, clung tightly as he reached up, dug his blunt nails into Bruce’s shoulder blades. He could leave bruises too, marks for Bruce to see later.

 

Marks to remind Bruce how  _ weak _ he was- marks that Dick knew always made Bruce hate himself, a bit more, even if that was never the  _ intention _ .

 

“Bruce, I’m so-” Dick managed, hips jerking up as his cock rubbed along Bruce’s abs. The slopes of scarred muscle made his cock pulse, a fresh wave of precum leaking all over Bruce’s belly, as Dick’s body clenched up around him. He felt Bruce’s teeth on his pulse, his tongue taking in that fluttering of his heart’s wings, as Dick swallowed, whined out, “Gonna  _ come _ if you keep this up.”

 

Bruce chuckled, a rumble from his chest, and it was such a  _ Batman _ noise- the kind that used to make Dick’s knees weak when they were still exposed by his costume. Used to keep him up tossing and turning thinking about how  _ good _ it sounded and how it made his belly weak.

 

He’d wanted this for so damn long-

 

Bruce’s teeth dug in, nearly breaking skin as he fucked Dick harder. His rhythm fell away and it was desperate, wild,  _ animal like _ in ways that  _ only _ Bruce could be, when he was stripped down to his weakened core. In a way that only  _ Dick _ made him.

 

Dick shivered, a full body shudder straight up from his bones, before he let a wordless cry rip from his throat until it ached, arching up so that his cock was pressed tight to Bruce’s belly when he came. Bruce could feel the warm stickiness as it spread along his skin, felt Dick’s body flooding around his cock as the omega’s body clenched around him tightly, over and over  _ and over again _ -

 

His own orgasm was a grunt, into Dick’s neck, a stifled sound to all the screams he wanted to unleash, but never did. Dick was still clutching at his back, riding it out as his nails nearly broke skin, left marks right alongside Bruce’s many scars.

 

When Dick collapsed to the bed, it was with a satisfied smile. He stared up through dark lashes, hazy eyes awash with exhaustion and  _ satiation _ , as he let his hands slowly slide up along Bruce’s shoulders. Bruce stared down at him, before he was pulling away, pulling from Dick’s body and climbing right from the bed, as if his own legs weren’t  _ weak _ from the things Dick pulled out of him.

 

Dick felt his heart stuttering, sinking down past his ribs, into his belly. He swallowed back the sick feeling he always got, after sex with Bruce- because it was  _ always _ like this. Always Bruce taking him apart and leaving him at his rawest, his  _ purest _ , and then pulling away, closing off and removing himself so he couldn’t  _ feel _ .

 

Bruce walked across the room, grabbed his robe up off the chair it was thrown on. He tossed it on, tying it off quickly, before looking back at Dick- still naked and splayed on his bed. Hoping against hope and fate and  _ experience _ that Bruce would come back, would just crawl into bed for five more minutes-

 

“I’m going to shower in the cave,” he said, crossing the room and heading for the door. “I won’t wait for you for patrol. I assume you’ll join me later.”

 

The fact that Bruce knew Dick would lay there, would press his face into his pillows and try to drag out an afterglow that was always shattered- it was a testament, to how many times they had gone about this dance.

 

Bruce opened his door, but paused in the doorway, taking a visible deep breath. A moment passed, a beat in time, then two-

 

“You’re going into heat soon,” Bruce said, glancing back at Dick. “Make sure you prepare accordingly.”

 

He left without another word or glance, and Dick simply listened to the door slam shut. He stared up at the ceiling, and wished he could reach up, shatter the light’s bulb in his bare hands and let it burn him, let the glass dig into his skin. What was a few more scars? He boasted more than he could count, already. And it’d be worth it, for the cool escape the dark allowed. Where no one could see him…

 

He rolled over, pressed his face into Bruce’s pillows just as he always did. It smelled like the Alpha, rich and earthy, mixed with his expensive cologne. Dick breathed in deep, shivered and was hot under his skin again. Bruce wasn’t  _ wrong _ , he could feel it. He was on the verge of his heat, and the fact that Bruce had even taken him to bed at all was a  _ miracle _ , in his world.

 

Bruce refused to take him through his heats, always refused Dick when Dick wanted him the most. Told Dick it was  _ good _ for him to get through them alone- but it was  _ bullshit _ and Dick knew it.

 

Bruce didn’t want to risk losing himself, losing the ability to  _ walk out _ the moment they were done, like he always had. Didn’t want to fall into Dick and never climb back out.

 

Dick bit down on his tongue, let the sharp pain the points of his teeth caused ground him. He always let  _ himself _ fall, though. Always wanted Bruce even though he knew how much it hurt, when they were done. Always  _ dreamed _ that somehow, someway, it’d be  _ different _ this time around. Bruce would stay and curl around him and  _ love _ him in the ways Dick wanted- would say his  _ name _ like he never did during sex, would just look at him and smile.

 

He used to look at him and smile, once. When he was  _ Robin _ and he was  _ young _ and this was all locked inside him.

 

He rolled to his belly now, burrowed into the pillows and trembled. He didn’t cry- not this time. Some nights he let himself break that far, left tears on Bruce’s pillow. Most night he was too  _ like _ Bruce to let that happen.

 

Some nights he was just mad enough, at himself and Bruce, to forget he  _ could _ cry.

 

But the thing was- Bruce was right. Dick knew it- he’d make his way down to the cave eventually, in his own sordid walk of shame. He’d shower, he’d suit up, he’d join  _ Batman _ on the streets as if nothing had happened. They’d be the  _ dynamic duo _ again as if things didn’t change, as if Dick didn’t grow up, as if there was nothing else they could ever be.

 

And in the dark when Bruce wasn’t looking, Dick would break and want and break some more.

  
  


But while Bruce  _ was  _ looking, he could be nothing but okay, nothing but the perfect little omega - ready to please, ready to submit, ready to be taken advantage of. 

 

Confined within his Nightwing costume, his insides ached, but it was a welcome distraction to the ache in his mind. He had to focus now, while he was out on patrol. If he screwed something -  _ anything -  _ up, it could be days until Bruce spoke with him again. With his heat coming up, he knew he would not be able to handle that. Bruce barely talked with him as it was. 

 

“Nightwing.” 

 

Dick felt that word, those two syllables reverberate down his spine, get tangled in each vertebrae. He tried to shake it off, this was Batman talking to him now, not Bruce, but his body still felt warm with the phantom of Bruce’s skin and all of the endorphins had not worn off. The place Bruce had left empty between his legs throbbed and Dick nearly choked. Bruce was right, his heat was coming faster than he had anticipated. 

 

“Did you activate your scent mask? I can smell you.” 

 

“Uh, yeah, it’s on.” Dick bit back the response that hovered at the back of his throat:  _ Maybe it’s just stuck in your mind from earlier.  _

 

Bruce huffed in reply. Dick hadn't expected much more. 

 

“Split up. I'll take the north.” and with that, Bruce vaulted off the rooftop and left Dick breathing in his dust for the second time that night. Dick had been expecting that, too. 

 

Alone, Dick flew. He lept off the edge of the rooftop and reveled in the rush of air in his ears. For just a moment, he was young again, he was tumbling through the sky, doing something so amazing and making those who cared for him proud. His parents were in the air next to him, teaching him, guiding him, loving him. There were others below, watching him and waiting with outstretched arms to catch him should he fall. Dick missed the simplicity of childhood, even his unconventional childhood. He longed for a time before he presented, before anyone else knew what he was, before he was cursed by his biology. Most of all, he ached for the comfort and reassurance of those kind people on the ground, willing and waiting to catch him as he fell. 

 

But that was all gone now, put away in the dark corners of his mind like a ripped circus tent packed away never to be used again, like diseased elephants, balding lions, caravans in flames, snapped trapeze wires. Now, he only had himself, and sometimes he felt himself begin to float away like a wayward helium balloon, watching himself with one hand outstretched like a child who had lost focus in light of a tuft of cotton candy. He had let go of something that had truly mattered to grasp something that seemed sweet and sugary but melted away too quickly against his tongue and left behind nothing but a sticky residue behind. One that caused grit and grime to adhere to his fingers no matter how hard he tried to keep himself clean. 

 

Dick landed on another rooftop in the darkness, trying to ground himself in the here and now with the slight sting the contact caused in his ankles. He closed his eyes and breathed in the night air, trying to forget how the smoggy dirty smell of Gotham used to hold so much promise, used to make his stomach quiver, used to make his heart pound, used to mean  _ Bruce.  _ Now it was cold, now it only meant loneliness.

 

Dick nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a large hand on his shoulder, cursing himself for allowing himself to be left so vulnerable. He spun on his heels, escrima sticks firmly grasped in his hands, poised to attack. His assailant quickly gripped him by the wrists, applying expert pressure to the tendons there to make Dick drop his weapons and allow himself to be folded against the broad chest. 

 

“Deathstroke?” Dick hated the slight squeak in his voice. 

 

A laugh rumbled behind Dick, and Dick pressed himself back against it unconsciously wanting to ride its vibrations. 

 

“You can use my real name.” Deathstroke paused to plant a kiss on the nape of Dick’s neck, eliciting a shiver. “ _ Sweetheart.”  _

 

He released Dick, allowing the omega to turn around and take in the figure of the alpha. 

 

“Slade. What are you doing here?” Dick asked, not really caring about the answer. He was grateful to see this man in a way he didn’t care to understand. 

 

“Just wanted to drop in on my little bird.” Slade opened his arms and beckoned Dick forward. Dick obeyed without a word, folding himself up in the alpha’s strong arms. He buried his face in the crook of Slade’s neck, allowing himself to breathe in his comforting pheromones, allowing himself to take in the comfort he so desperately desired. Dick didn't bother to think of how contradictory it was, to be getting safety and comfort and affection from this violent man. No,he had come to terms with that long ago. 

 

Slade dipped his head and pressed another kiss to Dick’s hair, breathing in his scent as well. He hummed as he did so, almost a growl, causing Dick to shiver again. “I can still smell him on you, little bird.” 

 

“Sorry.” Dick mumbled into Slade’s slightly sweaty skin,  knowing the other man was not upset with him regardless. 

 

“Was it like always?” 

 

Dick nodded, still trying to lose himself in the deep baritone of the words. “He left.” 

 

Slade hummed again, running a hand down Dick’s back, feeling each notch of his spine. “Sweetheart, you deserve better.” 

 

Dick stayed silent, unwanted tears threatening to spring to his eyes. God, he  _ was  _ about to go into heat. 

 

“Let me give you better, sweet little bird.”   Dick should have pulled away, then. He knew that, he  _ always _ knew that- and yet, he never pulled away.

 

More and more lately, he was beginning to think that what Slade could give him  _ was _ better.

 

Dick splayed his hands on Slade’s chest, glancing up, shifting as the heat in his belly coiled up again. Taking Slade home, curling up in his arms- it wouldn’t be the first time he ran to him, after Bruce. Wouldn’t be the last, he was sure. As it was, this broken game was stuck on  _ repeat _ until Dick could bring himself to tear away- or a miracle happened, and Bruce  _ changed his ways _ .

 

Dick had seen, over the years, how well Bruce handled change.

 

“What makes you think you can do better?” Dick asked, forcing out the bile-filled ache in him, forcing down the hurt and replacing it with  _ playfulness _ . He was good at that- play the ever charming doll, and rot himself away in his core when no one was watching.

 

He was more alike to Bruce than he would ever admit.

 

Slade smirked, and Dick liked the fact that he could  _ see _ it. He wasn’t sure what he was doing without his mask- but hell, he wasn’t sure what he was doing in  _ Gotham _ except chasing  _ him _ .

 

Slade never needed a mask for that.

 

“Past experience,” Slade offered, dipping down, nuzzling into Dick’s neck, breathing him. “You always sing so well for me, little bird. I bet your song isn’t nearly so beautiful for  _ him _ .”

 

His hands found Dick’s hips, squeezed, and Dick’s breath caught. He didn’t need much enticing- his body was humming again, and he knew what Slade felt like, tasted like, how he could actually fulfill his promises. He knew how good he’d feel, and it wasn’t a  _ thought _ \- it was a guarantee.

 

“Don’t just make me sing then,” Dick offered, as Slade lifted back up, and Dick leaned in, hovered close to his mouth. “Make me  _ scream _ .”

 

*

 

Dick gripped Slade’s uniform, shoved him by his chest against the door. The trip to the safehouse had been  _ silent _ , one they both knew well. Dick, like the rest of the families, had little nooks and crevices all over Gotham to use as he pleased- but this one, this tiny little space in the attic of what was once a prominent, expensive apartment complex, but now, over the years, was slowly wasting away to the  _ modernity _ that had come to Gotham-

 

It was their place. It was a set of rooms where Bruce wasn’t allowed in  _ anything _ of Dick’s- where Slade was the only one to touch, to taste, the only one Dick let  _ in _ .

 

Slade’s shoulder blades dug into the door as Dick leaned up on his toes, crashed their mouths together. It was desperate and crass, graceless but yet so damn satisfying. Dick groaned into Slade’s mouth, felt that smirk of his that always made his cock twitch. He bit at his lip, pinched it between his teeth and tugged, got the sort of rattling groan from Slade’s chest that made him so damn  _ wet _ .

 

“So rough,” Slade chided, getting his hands back on Dick’s hips, “you’re  _ needy _ tonight, Grayson.”

 

Dick growled, fingers fumbling with Slade’s suit. He didn’t want to  _ deal _ with it, then. He just wanted it gone- just wanted to ride him until Dick had gotten off enough times to  _ forget _ why he had needed to drag Slade here to begin with.

 

He could heal through sex. Or he could  _ forget _ \- and at this point, he didn’t care which.

 

He tugged and pried, working pieces of the suit open until he could get his gloved hands on Slade’s chest, running down along firm muscles, along his abs until he was tugging at his pants, working to get them open.

 

“Slow down,” Slade teased, and there was a  _ laugh _ in his voice, like Dick’s needs amused him. Dick glared, and Slade quirked up a brow. “You’re not intimidating like that, little bird.”

 

“Oh?” Dick leaned close again, gave up getting his pants open in favor of pressing his palm against Slade’s crotch, palming his cock through the layers of fabric. “Then when am I intimidating?”

 

Slade’s smirk lessened, slowly disappeared. He reached up, sliding his fingers beneath Dick’s mask, carefully pulling it from his face. Dick blinked a few times, as the air hit his eyes, before Slade was tossing it away, cupping Dick’s face, tugging him in closer. “When you’re simply Grayson,” he mumbled, close to Dick’s mouth. “Nightwing is not a thing of nightmares. Robin was never  _ controlling _ . The man beneath the mask,  _ he’s _ who I am after.”

 

Dick might have responded, might have argued- but Slade was kissing him again, and he let the words die. He sighed into it, and this one- it shouldn’t have been as slow as it was. Shouldn’t have been easy to melt into. But it was and he  _ did _ and Dick- he couldn’t find it in him to be alarmed.

 

Slade began walking him backwards, slowly, through the small kitchen the old door opened up into. The tiny attic apartment boasted only three rooms- the kitchen, the tiny bathroom that felt more like a closet, and the bedroom. It should have been telling, that Slade could walk Dick through the entire kitchen and into the bedroom, while barely looking, without missing a single step.

 

It was only when Dick’s legs hit the bed that he even realized how far they had gone. He fell back, plopping down onto it, breaking the kiss to try and catch his breath as he stared up at Slade. There was a tiny sliver of skin visible, from where Dick had shoved the top half of his suit up and it had tried to fall back into place, but hadn’t quite nestled in properly. Dick eyed it, felt his stomach knotting up, and Slade reached down, combed his fingers through Dick’s black hair.

 

“What do you want, little bird?”

 

He asked when he could have  _ taken _ , knowing Dick would give him anything. Everything.

 

Dick bit at his cheek, began tugging his gloves off. He tossed them to the floor, to be forgotten, and got his hands back under the alpha’s shirt, splayed them on his abs. He rubbed his thumb along the trail of hair at his navel, before leaning in, nosing his shirt up and nuzzling there. Slade chuckled, pulling his shirt up himself, taking the time to work off his shoulder pads, his gloves, before tugging it off and tossing it away.

 

Dick mouthed at his skin, followed the trail down to Slade’s pants, his hands working at the buckle again, the clasps. He smelled different than Bruce, had this sort of burn to Dick’s brain that made him short circuit. He inhaled deeply, shivering, and Slade was petting his hair again, so damn affectionate that if Dick didn’t have countless nights under his belt like this, he might wonder  _ who _ this man truly was.

 

He got Slade’s belt open, his pants following, and gave a happy little noise when he could kiss lower, until he met the waistband of his underwear. Dick curled his fingers beneath it, tugging everything down until Slade’s clothing was bunched at the meat of his thighs, his cock bobbing free. Dick bent down further, pressed his mouth to the base, one hand cupping his shaft, as he glanced up.

 

“Is this what you want?” Slade asked, and how the  _ fuck _ did he sound so calm, like he wasn’t breaking. Dick didn’t understand, but he nodded, eased a trail of kisses up his shaft, until he reached the head. His pink tongue darted out, swept up the precm beginning to bead there, and Slade brushed his hair back from his face. His hand stayed buried there, keeping it back, as Dick opened his mouth, eased down his cock. He shifted, squirmed as the heavy heat pressed over his tongue, could feel himself getting wetter by the second.

 

He’d always loved this, loved the way Slade looked at him while he sucked his cock. Looked at Dick like he was doing  _ good _ , like he was making him proud- looked at him in a shockingly  _ fond _ manner. Like he cared.

 

Slade exhaled, a groan rumbling up from his chest, as Dick eased further down. He curled one hand on his hip, pushing his thumb against a scar low on his pelvis- ancient by the way it was faded and muttled into Slade’s skin, older than Dick even, if Dick truly were to examine it. He eased back, leaving Slade’s cock wet, his cheeks growing flushed as he felt his cock pulsing, leaking all over his cup, trapping and aching and so damn uncomfortable but-

 

“Stop,” Slade said, as Dick was easing back up again. He pulled off, all wet, swollen red lips, staring up  _ shocked _ , as Slade reached down. Hands on Dick’s shoulders, he pushed him back, until he was splayed out on the bed, began working at all the hidden clasps and zippers he knew by heart.

 

“Don’t you- want it?” Dick asked, as Slade got the top half of his suit open, was spreading it away from his chest.

 

“Oh, I do,” Slade mumbled, leaning into Dick’s collar bone and kissing the jut of it. “But you want something too. And you look out of your skin, little bird.”

 

Thing was, Dick  _ felt _ out of his skin. He was hot in ways that meant he was slamming against his heat’s door- but god, not just  _ yet _ . His belly hurt with it, but he could ignore that, as Slade eased shockingly cool kisses down the center of his chest, before turning, closing his mouth over one of Dick’s nipples. Dick arched, got his hands on the sides of Slade’s head and dug his fingers into his pulled back hair. He arched when Slade’s teeth pinched the sensitive bud, before his tongue was there, soothing and slick and  _ soft _ .

 

He hummed his approval, as Dick tangled his ponytail around his hand, tugging  _ hard _ . Slade lifted up, and Dick pushed himself up on one elbow, found his mouth and kissed him again, pushed his tongue into the alpha’s mouth like he was trying to stake a claim.

 

He didn’t need to. It was unspoken, but Slade was  _ his _ , if he wanted. And yet-

 

“I want your tongue,” Dick mumbled into his mouth, pushing those thoughts away. “Inside me.” There was a breath, a moment, where Slade stared at him with cool eyes, and Dick thought maybe he’d be  _ denied.  _ After all, Slade would taste  _ Bruce _ in his body still, and Dick was sure the alpha didn’t need a remind whose  _ seconds _ he was getting…

 

And yet Slade was pulling back, suddenly flipping Dick. The omega gave a cry, landing on his belly, as Slade tugged and tore at his suit, getting it off his arms and then down his hips, pulling it over the swelling of ass in one movement, along with his cup, his underwear. Dick gasped, raised his ass against the cool air, felt Slade’s big hands parting flesh- the scratch of his beard, against tender skin, as his tongue lapped out, flicking up over his hole. Dick gasped, eyes falling shut, as Slade traced the muscle, still  _ hot _ from how Bruce had taken him earlier.

 

He knew Slade could already smell Bruce on him, but when his tongue pushed into Dick, he was  _ sure _ he could taste him too. And yet Slade didn’t  _ stop _ , fucking his tongue into Dick’s wet hole just like Dick wanted. Needed. Had to have.

 

“S-Slade,” he gasped, pushing himself up on his elbows and hanging his head. He was trembling, his cock hanging down, dripping all over the old sheets. The hands on his ass squeezed, and when Slade pulled back there was the scratch of his beard again, and then his teeth, playfully nipping at the supple flesh of his ass.

 

“When I’m done with you,” he offered, “there won’t be a trace of him left in you  _ anywhere _ , little bird.”

 

Dick gasped again, writhing against nothing. “Please, please, Slade. Take him away.” 

 

Slade did not have to be told twice. Quickly, he pushed Dick forward, further up the bed. Dick would have hit his head on the headboard were he not used to this by now. Expertly he slid, following the hand Slade had pressed against his shoulder. His hand was large, warm, and Dick imagined it burning an outline into his skin. Cherry red and a glowing reminder of the comfort and care this man brought. 

 

“Are you ready, Dick?” Slade asked, always concerned that Dick knew what was happening before it did, always needing to be sure that he was doing what was wanted. 

 

Odd, how such a bad man treated him better than one who was meant to be good. 

 

Dick nodded furiously, but that wasn't good enough for Slade. He paused between Dick’s spread thighs, his fingers light against the skin, whispering into the darkness of it. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Let me give you what you want.” 

 

“ _ You.” _ Dick begged, knowing he didn't have to but begging all the same. “Please, Slade. Please fuck me.”  

 

Slade hummed again, turning his head and groaning. Dick looked down and caught him palming his own cock into his hand with a few rough strokes. Dick felt a fresh wave of slick pool between his legs that set him squirming again. His hole widened, gaped, he needed desperately and he moaned, whimpered, pleaded again. 

 

And Slade didn't leave him waiting for long. He couldn't do that to his bird, not when he needed so badly to be taken care of. 

 

Dick keened in ecstasy when Slade made contact with him. It was like he fit perfectly, like he was always meant to be there, meant to be inside of Dick. 

 

Dick wrapped his legs around Slade’s hips and used them to slide himself forward, impaling himself on his cock. Slade always let Dick set the pace on nights like this, and sometimes he chose to take things slow and sweet, but tonight he was impatient. 

 

When the cleft of his ass met the bones of Slade’s hips, Slade let out a lewd moan of his own. He pressed his hands down on both of Dick’s shoulders, effectively pinning the smaller man to the bed. Dick shifted beneath him, coaxing Slade to touch the hidden places buried deep inside of him. 

 

Slade rose to the bait, driving harder into Dick with each thrust. Dick’s hands splayed on the bed above him, grasping at nothing. The bed moved beneath them, and were they not in an abandoned building, Dick was sure someone would be able to hear them. He thought maybe it was possible that someone still might. 

 

He couldn't find it in himself to care, not with Slade taking up so much room within him. 

 

Dick felt like he was close already, Slade’s tongue had done more of the job than he realized. Dick felt his throat start to get tight. He didn't want this to be over, not yet. His stomach started to tighten along with his throat; Dick tried desperately to deny himself his orgasm and his breathing sped up with his efforts. He didn't want Slade to leave his body, he didn't want the heat, the rhythm, to be gone. 

 

He felt slade’s cock grow within him as well, and knew Slade would be coming soon as well, knew he would withdraw before his knot grew. Dick knew all of these things, but that didn't mean he had to accept them. He also knew Slade would do his best to hold off his own orgasm until his omega came. 

 

Slade's thumbs rubbed soothing circles into Dick’s skin and Dick tuned in to the words he was mumbling. Only then did he notice the tears streaming down his cheeks, the wetness in the shell of his ear where they collected. 

 

“Baby bird, I'm not going to leave you. You can come. It won't be over when you come. You know I'll lay here with you for as long as you want me to. I won't run away. Come for me, sweetheart. Let yourself go for me.” 

 

With a sob, Dick obeyed. He couldn't hold off any longer, not with the pleasant tug and tightness Slade created within him. His orgasm rippled through his body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He moaned again, a breathless shivery thing as Slade coated his insides with an orgasm of his own.  Slade’s hands tightened on his shoulders, fingers digging in, almost bruise worthy. Dick rather liked the bruises, liked the reminder that Slade clung to him in a way that Dick could relate to-

 

The same sort of need he held in his own heart.

 

He went limp on the bed, as those hands loosened. He sucked in a breath, his body shaking still, hypersensitive from his tryst with Bruce earlier and only made truly raw now. He felt Slade easing out of him, heard the alpha grunting over the lose of his tight heat, and Dick whined, unabashed, unashamed.

 

He never needed to be any of those things with Slade.

 

He lay with his cheek on the cool sheets, staring off into the dark at the wall- and for a moment everything was still. Then there were hands on his thighs, running over well toned muscle and dark skin, grasping at the bunched up material of his suit. It was guided down, the movement pausing when Slade stopped to work Dick’s boots open. Dick sighed, rubbed his cheek against the sheet, feeling like liquid under his skin- a little warm still, a little tight in his belly, but that he was upcoming heat, he knew.

 

He was still so sure he could push it off a bit more.

 

Once he was completely stripped, he stretched his legs, before arching one, getting more comfortable. He heard the soft sounds of fabric moving, being dropped onto the floor- and then the bed was dipping, creaking under Slade’s solid weight as he stretched out behind Dick. A kiss to the tender spot between his shoulder blades, and Dick sighed again, a strong arm being draped over his waist, tugging him back against Slade’s chest.

 

“You’re alright?” Slade murmured, nosing at Dick’s hair. Dick nodded, eyes feeling heavy. He wanted to sleep, wanted to curl up with Slade’s heat all around him and forget for a night. He could wake up in the morning and put thoughts and rationality to what he and Bruce had done…

 

Except he knew he wouldn’t. He  _ never _ did, no matter how much it hurt in the end, every time.

 

He felt Slade’s mouth on his shoulder, the somehow soothing scratch of his beard, the line along his cheek from his eyepatch. He let his eyes fall completely shut, pushing back against him, as his arm tightened around him. Skin on skin, Dick could have dissolved into this, wasted away into nothing, dissipated into the air as a final breath. He fit so  _ perfectly _ and it was alarming, every time it happened. No matter how many years this had dragged on, on and off-

 

He shouldn’t  _ love _ how this felt so much. Slade was  _ terrible _ , and yet… and yet Dick couldn’t  _ care _ when they were like this. Because he was  _ different _ , soft where Bruce was hard, loving where Bruce was  _ cold _ .

 

He was everything Dick’s mentor should have been, and nothing that  _ Deathstroke _ should ever be.

 

“Bruce might wonder where I went,” Dick mumbled, only half caring. Thinking about the tracker his suit boasted, he wouldn’t be shocked if Bruce already knew. And Bruce wasn’t  _ naive _ or blind- he knew the spots where Dick let Slade touch him, have him, soothe him.

 

He couldn’t  _ care _ in the slightest.

 

“Let him wonder,” Slade whispered, a rumble from his chest like gravel, eroding and smoothing at the base of a stream. “I’ll stay with you until you sleep, little bird. He won’t find me.”

 

He never  _ did _ , and that was a testament to Slade, and Slade alone.

 

Dick nodded. It was for the best- he’d want to be alone, come morning, he knew. He’d need to think, even if it was only for a moment, before he pushed off the emotional agony he felt just like Bruce would. But the prospect of falling asleep alone was  _ ugly _ , and he was glad Slade understood that.

 

He wanted to thank him, but the words never made it to his lips. Exhausted, Dick fell into a silent sleep, hand clutching at the sheets as Slade’s hand splayed on his belly, a comforting gesture that he wasn’t alone.

 

*

 

When Dick woke, he had no idea what time it was. Light was streaming in from the dusty, round window- the only the room boasted. Outside the city was alive, teeming with life even out here, in the scraps Gotham wished would simply disappear. Dick crinkled his nose, not opening his eyes as he tugged at the sheet, squirming gently.

 

He felt hot, like the sun was boring down on him. Hot and tingling, and when he shifted, he could feel how wet he was. He groaned, rolling over and burying his head into his pillow, inhaling and getting a lasting wiff of Slade’s scent. He whined, hips rocking down onto the bed, his cock pinned beneath him but hard in ways it shouldn’t be, considering how thoroughly he’d been taken care of, the night prior.

 

If he could have denied his heat the night before, he couldn’t now.

 

Dick cursed, pushing himself up on his hands, head hanging down. He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the ancient floral pattern on the sheets, the kind you locked away in a closet until forgotten company showed up, in the middle of the night. The kind that time easily forgot.

 

He licked his lips, and at least he was safe, locked away from the world to deal with this. Not that he couldn’t  _ function _ on his heat, he very damn well knew he could- but it was relieving to simply ride it out and not  _ worry _ about acting as if the tightening in his belly and the slickness between his thighs was anything more than a minor inconvenience.

 

Still, he needed to let someone know where he was. What was happening. Carefully, he climbed from the bed, heading for his suit, left in a heap on the floor. He bent down, digging through it and finding his phone. He sat on the foot of the bed, clicking a name and listening to the phone ring a few times.

 

He thought it might go to voicemail, before it finally picked up, but instead of a greeting, all Dick got was, “Where are you?”

 

But it was still Bruce’s voice and it made his cock  _ throb _ .

 

“Safehouse,” he said, licking his lips again. “Narrows.” Single words, and Dick hated how his breath was coming up short. He should have gotten off, before calling Bruce. Taken the edge off. “My heat came.”

 

Bruce hummed, and Dick wanted to feel the vibrations with Bruce’s mouth around his cock. Wished Bruce would lay him out and kiss every inch of him before sucking the pleasure straight from his damn bones.

 

“I said it was coming.” There was a pause, but Dick didn’t miss the small waver in Bruce’s voice. And then, “Call me when it’s done. If you need anything, I will have it arranged. Just call Tim.”

 

Not  _ call me _ , not an  _ I’ll come hold you through it _ . It was like a  _ transaction _ , and Dick didn’t like to think of his  _ little brother _ as a damn middle man because Bruce couldn’t  _ face _ him when he smelled like heaven and tasted like hell.

 

“Yeah,” Dick said, mumbling, “whatever,” after, as he reached up, swiped a hand through his hair. “Don’t get yourself killed out there without me.”

 

“I will manage.” Another pause, “I have a meeting about to start…”

 

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you tomorrow or something.”  _ Maybe _ . The line went dead without a formal goodbye, and Dick chucked his phone down into the pile that was his suit, falling back onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. He splayed his arms out, ignoring the growing knot in his belly for release, to be  _ filled _ . Ignoring everything as if he was punishing himself for just a damn moment, because he had  _ hoped _ that this time would be different.

 

That he’d call Bruce and the man would come running over to just  _ comfort _ him. That was all he wanted, a little reassurance, when he felt  _ vulnerable _ and hated to admit it.

 

But it  _ wasn’t _ and he cursed himself as an idiot for ever even entertaining the idea that it would be. Yet he knew he’d do it again, if something didn’t change. Like he was stuck in an endless cycle, locked in purgatory- given what he wanted only to have it taken away as punishment because he  _ enjoyed _ it too much.

 

Dick knew he was going to have to wait this out by himself. He knew he wasn't going to call Bruce for help - no, he would let him worry. If Bruce was even capable of worrying, of feeling even that base emotion. He would suffer in silence, do his best to calm the ache within, to fill himself as much as he was able, all the while breathing in the ghost Slade had left behind on the pillow next to him. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could even imagine those strong arms wrapping around his fevered body tightly. 

 

Dick knew he didn't _ have  _ to imagine. He knew if he called Slade the man would drop everything and come running, but Dick couldn't bring himself to ask. Slade had his own life, and Dick couldn't ask him to abandon it, especially when it was Dick who couldn't commit. 

 

A cramp rippled its way through his already somehow exhausted muscles and he bit down around a moan. He knew no one could hear him, but he felt like letting go of control would be admitting defeat. Even if he couldn't control what his body was doing, he could control how he reacted to it. Or so he thought. Before he even truly realized what he was doing, Dick was on his knees, one shoulder pressed into the mattress, his right hand three fingers deep inside him. And god, it wasn't enough. His fingers were too small, long and lanky and not at all thick enough. He needed a  _ cock  _ and try as he might, his body wouldn't let him deny it. 

 

He thrust back against himself, not getting nearly enough friction. He was drooling onto the sheets where his face rubbed against the fabric and he couldn't hold back a pitiful whimper with each roll of his body, shift of his weight. Frustrated, as he always was, that masturbation never felt quite the same when he was in heat. Putting more of his weight on his shoulder, he grasped his leaking cock with the hand that wasn't dripping with slick and desperately sliding in and out of his hole. A shiver tore through him, the new sensation simultaneously too much and not enough. Dick quickly found a rhythm that he knew would bring him to climax soon - good; now wasn't a time for enjoying the feeling of his own body. Now was a time to stop the overwhelming aching pain of need, to get this over with as quickly as possible. 

 

In a blur, he came into his hand, onto his stomach, the sheet, keening out a shout and biting down on Slade’s pillow to stifle it. He had no time to enjoy the aftershocks, barely any time to realize he had even come, before his body was begging him again. He squirmed into the feeling, his nerves sizzling, feeling raw and broken open. It was uncomfortable to keep touching himself, but it would have been worse not to. His whimpers turned to sobs as he continued to fuck himself,  his mind fuzzing out and going blank, resigning to the hell he would be suffering for the next few days. 

 

Dick was so outside of himself that he didn't hear the door to the safe house rattling open, didn't hear the footfalls of heavy boots picking up speed through the kitchen. He was oblivious to his name being called and to the final squeak of the bedroom door being opened. He certainly couldn't make out the harsh intake of breath when his guest was met with a wall of his sweet heat-drenched scent. 

 

Dick yelped and nearly jumped out of his skin when a cool hand was laid against his fever dampened skin. Yanking his fingers from his hole, a trail of slick following them out, he turned as fast as he could to face whoever was in his room with him. Though his eyes were clouded in delirium, the scent was unmistakable. 

 

“Little bird, little bird, it's only me sweetheart. It's just me.” 

 

“ _ Slade.”  _ Dick choked out, his arms outstretched, his body moving closer automatically. He locked gazes with the man, his cheeks flushed and his eyes wild with desperation. “Sl- _ ade _ . I need - fuck, pleaseplease _ please.”  _

 

_ “ _ I'm here, little bird.” Slade answered, wasting no time in removing his own clothes, but keeping a steady hand on Dick the whole time. 

 

Dick moaned louder than Slade had ever heard when he caught sight of the man’s already hard cock. Slick was running down his thighs as he leaned back and spread them, writhing and waiting for Slade to fill him. Dick mewled when he felt Slade line up and slide into his already prepared body. A sigh of relief melted into a scream of pleasure as Dick thrust roughly back into Slade, setting the pace quick and harsh. Dick gave into his body’s needs as his hole widened and his cock stiffened. Slade’s hands were on his shoulders and Dick leaned his head against his forearm, breathing hard enough to leave condensation on the skin. He  _ needed _ , he needed and for once in his life those needs were being met. 

 

Pleas left Dick’s lips on each exhale, begging for something that Slade was giving him, something that wasn't going to be taken away. Slade grunted with each thrust, each pulse of his cock. 

 

“Sweetheart, relax. I'm not leaving you.” Slade whispered into Dick’s skin, assuring him. He could feel his own orgasm building, but knew he would hold out until Dick had spent himself, until he had gotten everything he needed. 

 

Every one of Dick’s muscles were coiled tight, his hole clenching around Slade in a delicious way. Heat built at the base of his spine and he knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but he couldn't make his tongue work well enough to form the words. Instead, a scream traveled up his throat and broke the tension in the air as he stilled. Cum painted his stomach again and he fell back to the bed, limp, whimpering as Slade’s hot orgasm filled him up as well. 

 

The pair of them stayed in that position, cum cooling against skin, until Dick began to shiver. Slade trailed kisses along Dick’s skin, licking up a bit of the mess as he reluctantly slid from within Dick. Dick sobbed at the absence, his hole gaping in the aftermath. Slade lifted the prone man, pressed a kiss against his temple, and settled him into the bed before covering him with the old sheet. 

 

“I'm going to get you some water. What else do you need?” 

 

“Mmm...more blankets.” Dick replied sleepily, not even opening his eyes. “Some cereal.” 

 

Slade chuckled a bit at that. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. I'll be right back.” 

 

Either Slade was extremely true to his word, or Dick drifted off in his absence, because Slade was back before he had even gotten used to him being gone. He sat down on the bed next to Dick and helped him sit up, cradling him in his arms and allowing him to lean against his broad shoulder. He pressed a cool glass of water into Dick’s hands and helped him bring it to his lips. Greedily, Dick drank down half the glass before stopping to fill his mouth with a handful of dry cereal. 

 

Slade ran his fingers through Dick’s hair as he crunched, laughing softly as he shoved another handful into his mouth. 

 

“You're going to rot your teeth out.” 

 

Dick shook his head, sighing sleepily before drinking the rest of the water. Slade placed the empty glass on the small rickety bedside table before laying down with Dick securely in his arms. 

 

“Rest now, little bird. I'll be here for you when you wake.” 

 

Dick hummed, nuzzling into the hair on Slade’s chest. He had almost fallen asleep when something clicked in his head that had him wide awake again. 

 

“Why did you come back?” 

 

The silence that answered his question was so heavy Dick thought Slade had fallen asleep. He twisted slightly to see the sparse light in the room glinting of Slade’s eye. “Slade?”

 

Slade sighed heavily, the exhale making the edges of Dick’s hair flutter. Dick’s heart hammered in slight alarm. 

 

“I...never wanted you to find out.” Slade began slowly. Another breath and the hand on Dick’s back began moving between his shoulder blades. “But I come here in the mornings, after we see each other. Just to make sure you've gone home, just to make sure you're okay.”

 

Dick fisted one hand in the sheets over that, tugging gently, as he felt Slade’s legs slotting in with his perfectly. That hand moved back down his back, over his waist, and Slade’s lips were on his shoulder, kissing shockingly gently.

 

He  _ worried _ about Dick. He checked up on him and wanted him to be okay and…  _ and _ …

 

Dick swallowed thickly, squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his mouth trembling. He sucked a breath in, trying to hold it, as Slade teased a finger around his navel. “Dick?” he said, softly, and Dick exhaled in a rush.

 

“S’nothing,” he whispered, his voice shaking, the corners of his eyes threatening wetness. It had to be nothing-

 

It had to be  _ something _ .

 

Slade’s arm locked over him, kept him firmly against his chest, and Dick reached down, covering one of Slade’s hands with his own and squeezing. “It’s really okay,” he added, more to himself than to anyone else. “Just… just stay.”

 

“Wouldn’t leave you when you need me,” Slade offered, and god, Dick  _ believed _ him.

 

*

 

Dick’s fever dreams were always strange blurs of  _ sensation _ . He’d dream of silk wrapping around his entire body, encasing it like the sweetest mouth- and then suddenly light ablaze, leaving him gasping for breath and burning from his lungs out. He’d dream of hands and mouths but no faces, of the sheets of his bed being ground between his teeth. He’d dream of  _ relief _ and of starvation-

 

And when he woke up, it was always needing far worse than when he first slept.

 

Dick whined, tipping his head back and refusing to open his eyes, as he came to against the gnawing need in his gut. He shifted, and the arm around him tightened, Slade mumbling into his skin. Dick squirmed, digging his ass back into the man as reached down, curled his fingers into his arm and  _ squeezed _ .

 

“Slade,” he gasped, and god, had it always been this bad? The burning need when he woke? Or was it  _ because _ his body knew there was relief, here. That it could want and need and crave because it could  _ have _ .

 

The alpha gave a sleepy grunt, nuzzling into the back of his neck and inhaling. The moment he did his eyes cracked open, as Dick began to shove at his arm, trying to move his hand lower. “Little bird,” he rasped, voice hoarse from disuse, as Dick shivered over it, keening and rocking his hips up, his cock hard and aching as he felt the slick dripping down his thighs.

 

“I need you to,” Dick managed, forcing himself to breathe, “to- to just-  _ Slade _ .”

 

His name was the only command he needed. Slade moved his hand on his own, wrapping it around Dick and giving him a firm stroke. Dick hissed, squirming, as Slade kissed his hair.

 

“Let me take the edge off,” he offered, stroking in quick, tight motions. Dick couldn’t deny it, fight it- and even though he wanted something  _ inside _ him, this was better than nothing at all. Better than his own hand, with callouses he knew and lines he expected. Even if he  _ knew _ Slade’s, they felt like everything his never were. He sucked in a breath, mouth falling open, as Slade dragged his teeth along his shoulder blade, grinding into his ass. Dick could feel how hard he was already, and shuddered, body clenching up tightly like it hoped to be met with the resistance of his cock. “Little bird,” Slade mumbled into his dark skin, and Dick arched, gave in to one of the fastest orgasms of his life, shaking all over as he coated Slade’s fingers.

 

Slade smirked, nuzzling his shoulder and stroking him until he was sure Dick’s orgasm had subsidded. Only then did he let go, reaching up and pressing his fingertips to Dick’s lips. Dick’s mouth opened, Slade’s fingers curling over his teeth and pulling gently, until he was pushing them in and Dick was sucking, tongue swirling over the bitter digits and lapping away the mess he made.

 

“Taste like heaven?” Slade asked, as Dick screwed his eyes shut. He shoved his ass back, was rewarded with Slade’s hips bucking forward, his cock pushing up against his hole. “You want me to take you, sweetheart?”

 

Dick nodded vigorously, hands scrambling along the bed, then up his own body, over Slade’s arm, unsure where to  _ stop _ . In the end his hands curled around Slade’s forearm as the alpha, with one perfectly lined thrust, pushed into his body, until he was seated completely, Dick’s supple ass pressing tight to his pelvis. Dick gasped, a tiny  _ yelp _ escaping around Slade’s fingers. Slade arched slightly, bowing his head into his shoulder again as he worked his hips quickly, thrusts jostling Dick’s body, forcing his teeth to scrape at his fingers. Slade didn’t  _ care _ , and Dick almost didn’t want them gone-

 

Except he could barely  _ breathe _ . He tugged at Slade’s arm until they pulled free, dragging over his bottom lip, only to let out a string of  _ yes _ and curses, almost grinning as he arched, trying to push back tighter to Slade. The alpha moaned, pushed his forehead to Dick’s shoulder and breathed him in, drowning in the heady sweetness rolling off him.

 

“So- good,” Dick managed, as he began to writhe and twist. Slade lifted his head, just as Dick reached back, got his fingers in his ponytail and nearly wrapped it around his fist. He tugged, turning himself until his waist twisted in ways that should have hurt, but Dick didn’t  _ care _ .

 

He needed to see Slade, see his one wild eye and the fact that it was an overwhelming sort of  _ devotion _ that glittered there. Dick smiled,  _ smiled and felt loved and whole and good _ , and leaned up, pressing their mouths together. He whined into the kiss, nearly sobbed as Slade hit every spot inside him- but refused to let go.

 

He needed to be like this, needed his every damn cell to be open and filled with Slade, needed to give and to take and to finally find the relief he had always sought when he was left alone. His mouth opened and he felt Slade’s tongue pushing in, testing the sharpness of his canines before Slade pulled back enough to breathe against his lips.

 

“Dick.” It almost cracked, his name, and Dick shuddered, his cock leaking all over his belly. Dick  _ knew _ what it meant.

 

“Me too,” he managed, trying to bite back a sob. He was buzzing in his every vein, his toes curling as his insides completely melted. He could feel the way Slade’s cock was beginning to swell more, and when his hips tried to ease back, Dick  _ yanked _ on his ponytail, got a delicious  _ hiss _ from his lover. “No,” Dick whined. “No, no,  _ I want it _ .”

 

Slade slammed forward again, and Dick arched, twisting to face away from him again but keeping a hold on his hair. He lost himself in it, let his body feel like it was being cracked open and filled with warm honey-cotton. Let himself be driven forward,  _ forward _ , until he was diving off a cliff- arching and tugging at Slade’s hair and crying out his name with a smile on his lips, as he came again.

 

His body clenched around Slade, rhythmically holding him tightly, deep inside him. Slade groaned, before the sound turned into a damn near howl, his own orgasm leaving Dick filled and wet. As he came his knot swelled completely, making Dick’s cry choke off as he sobbed, so full and stretched and keeping Slade’s cum deep inside him. He shivered over that, let go of Slade’s hair as the alpha slumped against him, gathering him up in his arms and squeezing tightly, keeping Dick’s back against his chest.

 

Dick shuddered, trembling all over as his feet slid along the sheets, his toes curling again in the aftershocks. Slade’s mouth found the back of his neck and kissed gently, as Dick began to relax. “I have you,” Slade mumbled, his hands splaying on Dick’s belly and ribs. “You’re alright, little bird.”

 

Dick hummed, reaching down to cover Slade’s hands with his own, and let himself believe, in that moment, that he truly was.

 

\--

 

Dick awoke slowly, breathing in through his nose. The air came easy, it didn't crackle into his lungs, didn't catch and burn into insatiable need. He exhaled just as carefully, testing the waters and feeling relieved. His skin was cool, his brain was still fuzzy but not quite buzzing. He tried to stretch his tired muscles and felt his naked skin slide against a pleasantly warm body behind him. 

 

For one delirious moment, he thought it was Bruce. His heart sped up and he opened his eyes. Momentarily disoriented by the light streaming into the room, it took him a moment to recognize his surroundings. A sleepy mumble behind him helped him realize who he was sharing his bed with. 

 

“Mmm, little bird? Are you okay?” Slade nuzzled into Dick’s shoulder. 

 

Dick tried to twist around to see the way Slade’s tangled hair was glinting in the sunlight, but as he moved he felt Slade still buried deep inside him. He sighed, settling back, his ass flush against hipbones. Slade’s broad hand tightened around his stomach as Dick got comfortable again. 

 

“Yeah.” Dick whispered, his throat sore from all the screaming he could barely remember doing. “It’s over.”

 

The two of them dissolved into contented silence, both men undeniably exhausted. Slade kept pressing feather-light kisses to any bit of Dick’s exposed skin he could reach. With Slade’s warm hand rubbing across his chest and stomach, Dick nearly fell asleep in the soft bed. His breath had just started to even out when his phone began to ring. 

 

His eyes popped back open with a groan. He reached for the buzzing object on the nightstand, but it was just out of his reach. He whined childishly, reaching out and moving his fingers in its direction. Slade chuckled behind him. 

 

“Brat.” he breathed into Dick’s dark skin before shifting and reaching out for Dick’s phone. The movement caused him to sink further inside Dick, earning him a groan turned laugh from the omega. 

 

As Slade handed him the phone, it stopped vibrating. Dick took it and unlocked the screen, his stomach clenching as he saw he had three missed calls from Bruce. He swore under his breath, but it didn't go unnoticed. 

 

“I have to call him back.” 

 

“I’m not going to stop you, sweetheart.” Slade paused a beat. “Do you want me to go?” 

 

“Please don't.” Dick said, clearing his throat and dialing. He tried to reach up past Slade’s arms to hold the phone to his ear, but Slade took it and held it to Dick’s ear for him. Dick giggled softly at that, snuggling back in. 

 

The phone continued to ring, even though Bruce had just called him a moment ago. Dick was a little annoyed, he didn't really want to think about Bruce right now. Not when he was encased in a pleasantly warm embrace, not when he was still riding out the exhausting afterglow of his heat, not when he was being cared for. Dick almost wished he wouldn't pick up. 

 

But as they often do, Dick’s wishes went unanswered. 

 

“Dick.” Not a question, but a statement. No how are you, are things okay, is it all over now, do you need anything? No, he expected Dick to be okay, just like always. 

 

And this time he was, with no thanks to the man on the other end of the phone. 

 

Dick was silent for a moment, waiting to see if Bruce would say anything else. 

 

“Are you there?” 

 

“Yeah.” Dick answered, his voice still hoarse. 

 

“Your heat should have ended about six hours ago. You're usually back at the manor by now.” 

 

“Are you saying this because you’re worried that I'm late or because you're annoyed I’m late?” Dick tried to inject some mirth into his question, but failed. 

 

“Did it...go okay? Tim said you never called him.” 

 

“Thanks for checking up on me. Yeah it all went fine.” 

 

The sentence came out awkward. Slade was rubbing at his shoulder again and Dick nuzzled in as much as he could, entangled as he was in limbs and trying to keep the phone balanced. Bruce was silent for a moment more, then having heard the scrubbing interference from the movement on Dick’s end he must have put two and two together because he asked: 

 

“He’s there, isn't he.” 

 

Again, it wasn't a question. Dick felt Slade tense behind him and move slightly, as though he were making to remove himself. Dick shook his head furiously,  reaching back and hoping to grasp skin, hair, any part of Slade to  _ keep him.  _

 

“Yes.” Dick said, his voice the strongest it had been all morning, despite the phone pressed up against his ear getting sticky with grease from his unwashed skin. Dick could almost see Bruce pursing his lips into that emotionless expression and nodding curtly. 

 

“See you back at home.” Dick listened to the small beep indicating Bruce had hung up. 

 

“Bye.” Dick huffed to the disconnected line before tossing the phone onto the sheets. 

 

Silence fell again, but this time it held just a slight edge of tension. Slade began to kiss Dick’s shoulder blades again and Dick canted his hips in a way that made Slade growl. 

 

“Little bird, are you in trouble?” Slade asked, taunting slightly. 

 

Dick rose to the bait, shifting his hips another time and biting out a moan when he felt Slade begin to harden inside of him. “Doesn't matter. If he wanted to tell me what to do, he should have been here.” 

 

Dick continued to rock his hips back against Slade until the older man could take it no longer and flipped both of their bodies so he was on top of Dick. 

 

“Then that means  _ I  _ can tell you what to do right now?” Slade growled in Dick’s ear and he shivered. 

 

He felt the slick begin to coat Slade’s rapidly growing cock and nodded into the mattress fervently. Dick knew he would do  _ anything _ if Slade only asked. 

 

\--

 

Dick sat through an unusually quiet and stoic dinner at the manor. Alfred made the most conversation, asking Dick how he was, telling him it was nice to see him back - the manor was too quiet without him. Dick barely ate a thing, despite how hungry he was. His stomach was in knots, his body felt empty,  despite the fact that he knew he would end up back in Bruce’s bed later that evening. Or perhaps  _ because  _ he knew he would. 

 

Even hours later, with Bruce naked and sweating above him, he still felt empty. Full to the seams, slick stuck against his thighs, his body was enjoying the experience, but his mind was empty. Apart from thoughts of Slade. Thoughts of his gentle touches, of the rough but tender way he fucked, of the way he asked Dick if he was okay in raspy voice close to his ear. 

 

Bruce grunted and drove into him, and Dick knew that this was the most sound he could draw out of Bruce that resembled even a tiny bit of emotion. It was too much to hope they would ever talk about this, about  _ them.  _ Oblivious, Bruce never faltered, bringing them both to completion, but it was Slade he was thinking of when he came across his stomach. 

  
And it was Slade he was thinking of later, when he lay in bed to draw out his body’s aftershocks, alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Dick tucked his head down, turning his fall into a roll. He landed effortlessly, turning on his heel, escrima sticks poised as he nearly grinned. He tossed one at the man who had thought they could unbalance him, hit his target, and the moment he did the stick  _ zapped _ . The man gave a shout, going down, and Dick stood up, walking over in sure strides, toeing at his side. When the man didn’t move, he was content that he was unconscious, and he reached up with his free hand, pressing at his comlink as he secured the stick in his other hand to his back.

 

“Nightwing to Cave, got a pick up for the GCPD if someone wants to call it in.”

 

His comlink crackled for a moment, and then Tim’s voice rang through his skull. “Gotcha Nightwing. One pick-up comin’ right up.” A pause, and then, “How close are you to Grant and 7th?”

 

Dick opened his mouth to speak, as he bent over, picking up his other escrima stick, before he felt his stomach beginning to flip. He clamped his mouth shut, straightening up and inhaling slowly through his nose, trying to calm the sudden wave of nausea that had struck. He swallowed, securing his second stick, as Tim asked,

 

“Nightwing?”

 

“Grant and 7th. On it, gimme like, ten minutes.” He rolled his shoulders and neck, loosening his muscles- and when he was sure the nausea was gone, began to hike up the block to his bike.

 

And seven minutes later, he was speeding down Grant street, skidding to a stop at the intersection with 7th against the sounds of very obvious gunfire. He stared down the street, caught a sight of a familiar cape dodging a few well placed shots, and revved his bike.

 

He tore down the street, holding onto one handle as he grabbed one of his escrima sticks with his other hand, reaching out and smacking a man right in the back of the head. The bike narrowly missed contact, and he crumbled down as Dick threw his body weight and took a sharp turn, heading back for a second run-

 

Except another shot got his bike right in the front wheel. It pitched forward and he dropped the stick, being thrown forward. He narrowly managed to tuck and roll, hitting the pavement hard and awkwardly rolling. He sprawled, didn’t land his landing- not that he’d  _ admit that _ \- against the sound of the  _ crack _ of a head being snapped back, over a well placed punch.

 

Dick pushed himself up, stared through the lenses of his mask as Bruce kicked the third and final gunman, dropping him down to the ground. He went limp, and there was a moment, a breath, where both  _ waited _ for someone to move, for the crack of gunfire.

 

It didn’t come. Dick let his breath rush out, pushing himself up on his hands as Bruce turned, stalking towards him. His cape pillowed around him, made him seem impossibly large, larger than he looked even in bed- and Dick had always thought Bruce seemed a giant, when he was pinning him down.

 

Wordlessly, Bruce reached down, and Dick grasped his arm, allowed his mentor to tug him up to stand. Dick reached up, rubbing at the crook of his neck with his free hand. “Thanks,” he offered, looking at the mess of thrown weapons and unconscious men, in the street. “Could’ve waited five minutes.”

 

“You could have been on time.” Dick frowned.

 

“I told Ti- Red Robin  _ ten minutes _ . Took me less than that. Don’t come in so hot next time.” Dick elbowed Bruce, raising his brows as if in joke, “Unless it’s not on the streets but the  _ sheets _ .”

 

As expected, he didn’t get a reaction. Dick let his smile fall away, and couldn’t exactly find it in him to even be upset over that. He tried less and less to edge Bruce towards a playfulness with him, lately. Each night made it more and more obvious it wasn’t  _ worth it _ \- and yet, he still clung to strands of hope.

 

He wasn’t ready to completely give up.

 

“Call it in?” Dick asked, as Bruce turned, heading for one of the men. Bruce stooped over, grasping his wrists and zip tying them together, against his back. He nodded, and Dick reached up, pressing his comlink again. “Little Red, we need another pick up. Maybe medical, there were some nice hits.”

 

“On it. Monitors are quiet, you two coming in yet?” Dick glanced over at Bruce, knowing he heard the chatter over his own com- and waiting for  _ his _ signal. Gotham was still his jurisdiction, and when Dick worked with him, he  _ tried _ to defer to his judgement.

 

Except when he glaringly disagreed.

 

Bruce gave a nod, and Dick sighed, happy over that. The ache in his neck was spreading to his shoulders, and he was sure he’d have bruises, soon. He wanted to stirp of his suit and scrub the patrol-sweat from his skin and curl up in bed, even if just for a few hours.

 

He felt his stomach beginning to roll again, and cursed silently. He wasn't sure if he was coming down with something or if he’d  _ eaten _ something bad- which was perhaps reason number one he hadn’t complained about it to Alfred, because he was  _ not _ looking for a lecture on his eating habits- but it was irritating. He was just glad he had kept it under control- he’d been doubled over his toilet that morning for a good twenty minutes, fairly sure he was  _ dying _ with how badly his throat burned. He didn’t need to deal with that while trying to take down a couple drug runners and in a  _ skin tight suit _ .

 

“I’ll wait for the GCPD,” Bruce said, glancing at Dick, and if he noticed the color that had momentarily drained from Dick’s cheeks, he didn’t comment on it. Dick waited, wondered if Bruce might throw in a  _ see you at home _ , a  _ wait up for me _ , anything at  _ all _ .

 

He didn’t. Dick didn’t ask for it.

 

*

 

Dick hopped off his bike once he was in the cave, pulling his gloves off as he walked through it. He could see Tim, still in costume, perched in the chair with a mug next to him, at the main computer. Dick sighed, walking over and leaning against the back of the chair, reaching for the mug and lifting it up- finding it empty.

 

“Really too late for coffee, babybird.”

 

“Needed a boost. No sleep last night.” He clicked through a few video feeds, pausing at one that highlighter the front of Arkham Asylum.

 

“Then go to  _ bed _ .”

 

“Was waiting for you.” He swiveled the chair around as Dick straightened up, offered a toothy grin. “Had to make sure your ass came back in one piece.”

 

Dick chuckled, reaching out to ruffle the beta’s hair. “Hit the showers kid, we need to get some sleep.” Tim hopped up at that, pulling at his mask and heading for cave showers, as Dick called after, “And no  _ before bed _ coffee!”

 

Tim simply reached up and flipped him off, and Dick sighed, shaking his head.

 

*

 

Once showered, he headed upstairs with Tim. The manor was quiet, seemed dead around them, and it was strange to think that Alfred must even be sleeping. Up the stairs, they walked silently, Dick pausing to glance at Bruce’s shut bedroom door. Tim took a few steps, before noticing Dick was no longer in step with him and paused, glancing back at him.

 

Dick felt his fingers twitch. He wanted to push the door open, to crawl into Bruce’s bed and wait for him. He didn’t even want  _ sex _ , he just wanted to alpha to curl up around him and let him feel small for just a moment. Wanted his big hands to work the soreness from his neck and shoulders, wanted a few precious moments of comfort.

 

Instead he made his feet move, made himself take the two steps past the door. Bruce wouldn’t want his company, and Dick didn’t feel like feeling  _ sorry _ for himself tonight. Tim watched him, before reaching out, taking the omega’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

 

“If you want,” he offered, as they continued down the hallway, “I’ll crash in your room with you. I’m pretty fun to cuddle with.”

 

Dick snorted over that, pushing his bedroom door open. “Uh-huh,” he said, stepping in, Tim not letting go of his hand. “Let me ask that boyfriend of yours. Pretty sure he’ll confirm what I know- you take up the whole bed and kick the blankets all to the floor.” Tim smacked his arm playfully, taking his hand back and pausing in the doorway as Dick took a few more steps in. “But I appreciate the offer.”

 

“Anytime,” Tim said, folding his arms and leaning against the doorframe. “It’s good to see you, ya know…” Tim paused, inhaled slowly. “Not falling all over him.”

 

Dick stared at Tim, leveled those pretty dark blue eyes, and the beta blushed a little.

 

“Not the right wording,” Tim corrected, “but… you know. This has been going on forever, and none of us are  _ blind _ , Dick.”

 

No, Dick knew the family  _ wasn’t _ . He also knew he’d been guilty of late night comforting vents to Tim. The beta had been such a big part of his life for too long for him to  _ not _ \- was a brother when he needed one.

 

“No, maybe it is,” Dick admitted, feeling his stomach clenching up. He swallowed down, thinking it was  _ mental _ , stemming from a little bit of sickness he felt for himself over all of it- and yet he still wasn’t ready to stop. “I just…” he trailed off, felt his stomach flipping again, this time stronger, and Dick knew it wasn’t in his head.

 

“...Dick?” Tim asked, watching the color draining from his face. He unfolded his arms, as Dick reached up, ghosted his fingers over his lips, inhaled through his nose- but the queasiness only got worse, rolling waves up his throat now.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, swallowing. “I might have somethin’. Feeling pretty sick…” Dick let his hand fall away, inhaling slowly, trying to calm it, as Tim walked in, grabbing his arm and bodily turning him away from the bed, towards the adjoined bathroom.

 

“C’mon,” Tim said, walking him over towards it. He pushed the cracked door open, let go of Dick to flip the light on, and in that moment when it blinded Dick he felt his stomach nearly heave. He took the few steps in, dropping down and grasping the toilet seat, shoving it up so that porcelain  _ clanged _ together, before he was bowing over it, coughing and then retching. His other hand gripped the lip of the bowl as he felt a tremble rush through him, more fluid rising up his throat.

 

He missed the sound of Tim rushing over, of his knees hitting the bathroom floor. What he didn’t miss was a soothing hand on his back, rubbing along his spine- or Tim reaching up to carefully pry his hand off the upraised toilet seat.

 

“You’re okay,” Tim offered, echoing the same statement Dick had given him countless times over the years, every time he’d been sick. Dick coughed, sucked in a breath and swallowed it down too fast and was sick again. He squeezed his eyes shut, his throat  _ burning _ from bile and acid, tongue and mouth tasting wretched, feeling like a layer of grime clung to his gums. Tim continued to rub his back, hushing him, as Dick sucked another breath in. He held it for a moment, let it rush out, before a dry heave took over- but his body had nothing left to give.

 

It took a few minutes for Dick to catch his breath, before he thought the nausea was truly gone. When it was he reached up blindly, found the lever and flushed the toilet, lifting his head. There was sweat clinging to his forehead, the back of his neck. It made his scalp itch, made him feel like he needed another shower.

 

Tim straightened up on his knees, reaching out and getting his hands on Dick’s cheeks. His palms and fingers were cool- Tim always ran cold and in that moment, Dick was so thankful for it. He let his eyes fall shut as the beta ran one hand up to his forehead, the other threading comforting fingers back through his hair.

 

“Good now?” Tim asked, and Dick nodded, cracking his eyes open. Tim smiled, standing up. When he pulled his hands back Dick almost wanted to chase after them. He leaned forward, swayed a little on his knees, as Tim walked around him. He heard the sound of the sink running, of water hitting the bottom of a cup- and then the sound of glass on porcelain,  _ clinking _ as it was set down and the sink turned back off. Tim walked back around, offered his hands down to Dick- one of them slightly wet from the mist, and even more pleasant. 

 

Dick walked the couple steps to the sink, picked up the glass Tim had filled and sucked a mouthful down. He swished it, leaned over and spit in the sink, trying to rinse away the taste in his mouth. A moment passed, and when it was still there he set the glass down, reaching for his toothbrush now.

 

“I don’t usually see you sick,” Tim offered, “you eat something or catch something?”

 

“Dunno,” Dick admitted, being overly generous with the toothpaste, before popping the brush into his mouth. He scrubbed, trying to mask the acidic taste with mint.

 

Tim hummed, frowning, looking  _ worried _ . And that always made him look older,  _ too old _ if Dick was honest. Then he cracked a grin, planting his hands on his hips.

 

“Don’t tell me you got yourself knocked up,” he teased, and his smile was proof he was joking. Dick snorted, leaning over to spit out his mouth full of foam.

 

“Funny,” he said, before he popped the brush back in his mouth. “Birf-control, lil brofer,” he mumbled, and Tim scrunched up his nose.

 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s  _ rude _ . And yeah, but that shit fails. Remember the lecture you gave Damian when he hit puberty? Never just trust your suppressants- at least not around your heat.”

 

Dick rolled his eyes, spitting again and rinsing his toothbrush off. He set it back on its stand, grabbing the cup to swish another mouthful of water around, before spitting that out, as well. “Gotta have company during your heat to make a baby, Timbo.”

 

Tim shrugged a shoulder, and Dick was about to make another joke- before he paused. He gripped his glass a little tighter, as it dawned on him that he  _ had _ had company on his last heat. Which he wasn’t used to…

 

“Dick? Hey, you’ve gone white as me again. Gonna be sick?” Tim looked ready to move, and Dick managed to set his glass down, gripping the sink with both his hands.

 

He’d had a  _ lot _ of company around his heat and-

 

“ _ Dick _ , you’re freaking me out.”

 

Dick swallowed, glanced over at Tim- and wished he could lie to the kid. Not that he  _ was _ a kid now, but it was hard to not see him as such. And that only further his inability to  _ hide _ anything from him- before Tim’s face dropped when he took in the look in Dick’s eyes.

 

“I… I was kidding,” Tim offered, but then, “Shit, Dick. Tell me I was kidding.”

 

Dick swallowed, straightened up- swiped a hand back through his hair, giving it a little tug. “I…” he started, then shook his head. It was beginning to pound, from the sickness and the tumbles he’d taken, from the nerves and exhaustion. “I think I might want your company after all.”

 

Tim nodded, clamped his mouth shut- and bless him, didn’t say another word. Dick was glad, as he headed for the doorway, Tim flicking off the light as Dick crossed the room, pulling his blanket back and crawling into his bed. It was too late to even  _ contemplate _ that, he was too bone tired.

 

He stretched out on his side, felt his bed dipping ever so gently as Tim crawled in. An arm slid over his face, and Tim was nestling up against his back, clinging tightly and sighing in content.

 

Yes, Dick was too tired, and for once, he was going to sleep in the Manor was  _ comfort _ around him- even if it was different than the comfort Bruce might have offered. He could worry about this silly idea in the morning- buy a test and just shut up the strange little nagging in the back of his head that told him there could be merit to Tim’s idea.

 

\-- 

 

Dick awoke the next morning to an awful tumbling in his gut. He tried to shut his eyes around it, breathe through it, cling to sleep for just a few moments more. Maybe if he fell back asleep he would wake up and the gnawing nausea would be nothing but a distant and uncomfortable memory. 

 

Saliva began to pool in his mouth and Dick moaned uncomfortably. He kept his eyes shut still, determined not to get sick again. There shouldn't even be anything left to bring up if he tried. He curled in on himself slightly, trying to ease the pain in his stomach but nothing was helping. He was surprised he hadn’t woken Tim yet, with all the squirming he was doing. 

 

All too quickly, any delusion Dick had had of  _ not  _ vomiting vanished as a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. Dick swore under his breath and sat up much too quickly, setting his head spinning and stomach heaving. He pressed his knuckles against his lips and lunged forward for the wastebasket he knew he kept by the side of the bed. He had overestimated his ability, there was no way he would survive the trek to the bathroom in this state. 

 

Basket braced between his trembling knees, Dick leaned forward, hanging his head and spitting stringy drool into the bottom of it. His stomach heaved, bubbled, but nothing came up. 

 

Dick sat breathing heavily through his nose, begging a nameless entity for a reprieve. 

 

Just as the first wave of sick fought its way up his throat, Tim stirred behind him, reaching out and mumbling his name. As soon as his hand made contact with the bare skin on Dick's back, Dick heaved and Tim felt each and every muscle contract beneath his fingers. 

 

Dick grunted into the wastebasket and spat, waiting for more to come up. He knew he wasn't off the hook yet. 

 

“Are you okay?” Tim asked. Bless him, he always asked even if he knew the answer. 

 

“I think I have dysentery.” Dick grumbled, holding tight to the rim of the basket, tipping his head back and trying to ride out the queasy feeling that had settled within him. 

 

“I don't think you have dysentery, Dick.” 

 

Dick lurched forward as another mouthful of acid spilled from between his lips. It was almost as thin as his saliva, there was really nothing left inside for his stomach to give up. But that didn't mean it wasn't  _ trying.  _

 

“ _ Fuck.”  _ Dick groaned when he could breath again, moving his head away from the sour stink in front of him. “Malaria, then.” 

 

Another thin string of vomit fell from between his lips and Dick wiped it away with the back of his hand. He almost wished there  _ was  _ something inside of him to bring back up. It would be less painful that way. 

 

“The Black Plague is my guess.” Tim offered, rubbing Dick’s back. 

 

Dick tried to laugh, but ended up stifling a painful sounding belch and bent forward again, mouth hanging open, waiting for something to come up. Nothing more came but a soft hiccup and Dick placed the basket on the floor, wrapping his hands around his middle. 

 

“All finished?” Tim asked. Dick nodded, not wanting to open his mouth again. “Let's go get you cleaned up.” 

 

Dick was grateful to have someone like Tim there for him. It was good knowing that there were people looking out for him. It felt good to have a pair of hands against his back in this house that he didn't feel a strange stab of complicated attachment to. No, with Tim it was simple, and simple was exactly what Dick needed. 

 

Because, right now, everything else was the farthest from simple it had ever been. This realization crashed around Dick as he stood in the shower. Finally alone with his thoughts, he realized the severity of what was going on inside of him. He wanted to tell himself that there was no way he could be pregnant, no way his body could be host to a new life. But there was a tiny voice in the back of his mind reminding him it was possible.  _ What if you are?  _ It whispered to him.  _ What then?  _

 

Dick honestly thought he would prefer having the Black Plague than going through everything that being  _ pregnant  _ entailed. A crash of nausea washed through him that had nothing to do with  _ what  _ was inside of him and everything to with  _ who  _ it belonged to. 

 

Dick’s breath came short and he knew he was getting ahead of himself. He didn't even know for sure if he was. It could just be exhaustion and stress manifesting itself in a stomach bug. It could just be hormones. It could be any number of things. Dick tried to make himself believe those words as he breathed in steam from the shower. 

 

It was when he was drying off that he decided he needed to head into town. Looking at his warped reflection in the fogged up mirror, he knew he needed to go get a test. 

 

Dick had hoped to get out of the manor with nointeraction, but Tim has been waiting for him in his bedroom. He should have expected that. Tim wasn't the kind to leave after a night like they had had. There were some things he just never picked up from his mentor. 

 

“Feeling better?” Tim asked, setting down a mug on the bedside table. Coffee. Dick rolled his eyes. 

 

“Yeah, actually. Much better.” And Dick wasn't lying. A pang of embarrassment gripped him when he noticed the cleaned out wastebasket and knew that Tim had tidied up after him. “You didn't have to do that.” 

 

“I know.” A pause. “You sure you're alright, Dick?”  

 

Dick pondered an answer, before settling on being honest. “No, uh, not exactly sure, Timbo. I gotta go into town and get some things though.” 

 

“I can go for you, if you like.” Tim was a bit too quick to offer. 

 

“No, no. I, uh. I have to go myself. I need something that I have to get myself.” Dick's eyes shifted to the floor, and Tim understood. 

 

“Okay. Well. Good luck. And you know where to find me.” Tim said before leaving Dick's room, touching him lightly on the shoulder before he walked into the hallway. 

 

Dick collapsed onto the bed, knowing that whatever happened later, this was likely to be the most difficult trip to the drug store he had ever taken. 

 

\--

 

Dick had never been a patient person, and this day was really testing his limits. 

 

He had been kidnapped and held captive, had sat on stakeout after silent stakeout, had survived twelve plus years of public education, and yet the line in the drug store had been the longest thing he had ever had to endure. He had bought a few other things to hide the pregnancy tests, but picking up the right one off the shelf had been a test of wills. The condoms sitting in their boxes in the display right next to them mocked him. The ads for omega birth control with catchy phrases screamed out at him: 

 

_ Beat the Heat! _

_ Uh-Oh-mega: never have an oops again!  _

_ Show your alpha a good time, worry and hassle free! Ask your doctor today!  _

 

Dick’s jaw tensed just thinking about it. He had been careless, despite what he had preached to his brothers, and now he was paying the price for that. $9.99 to be exact. The cashier rang out his chips and soda without a blink but when he dragged the carton across the red laser he paused and looked up at Dick. Dick fiddled with the hem of his shirt and tried to ignore the way the alpha in front of him sniffed at the air, as though that alone could tell him if he was pregnant or not. 

 

Dick snatched up his bags and left more money than he needed to, just to get out of that store. He felt like everyone had been watching him, even though he knew they couldn't care less about him and his life. They might care more if they knew whose baby he could be carrying, but Dick shushed that thought almost as soon as it crossed his mind. 

  
  


And now, he was waiting again. Waiting for the benign looking white piece of plastic to complete its reading. The ten minutes it took felt to Dick like hours. He could barely breathe. He had been less tense diffusing bombs with only fifteen seconds on the clock. This, somehow, was much more life altering. Devastatingly so. 

 

He tried to tell himself that if he was pregnant, he would have known it by now. It had been weeks since his heat, surely he would have felt different by now. Right? He had heard stories of omegas nesting, of getting close with their alpha, but at what point did that start? And would it be different for him as an unbonded omega? He wasn't sure. He didn't want to know the answers. 

 

A small sound chimed from his phone, signifying that his time was up. Dick took a deep breath, stood up, and took another. He managed to cross his room with even breaths, even if they hitched when his hand met the doorknob to the bathroom. 

 

Beyond that door, sitting innocently on the sink, was the answer to a question that he had never thought of asking himself. Yet here he was, and he could put it off no longer. He closed the door of the bathroom behind himself and sat down on the toilet lid before reaching over and clutching the test in his fingers. 

 

He stared at the ceiling, afraid to look anywhere else. Taking one more breath to center himself, Dick tore his eyes away from the tiled ceiling and forced himself to look at the small strip of plastic in his hand. 

 

Once his eyes focused, the results were before him. 

 

Two tiny parallel lines. 

 

Positive. 

 

He was pregnant. 

 

_ Oh god.  _

 

*

 

It took Dick the rest of the afternoon to wrap his mind around the idea. To  _ believe _ those two lines. And even hours later he was still half convinced this was some weird nightmare- maybe a pre-heat fever dream. Fear toxin. Anything at all.

 

When he finally left his room, simply because his stomach was grumbling in the most unpleasant ways, and he realized he hadn’t eaten in… he wasn’t sure how many hours. And considering he  _ knew _ his stomach was empty, he could almost understand the way it had turned painful.

 

He stepped into the kitchen, hoping to be quick about this, hoping to retreat back up to his room- but he was met with Tim sitting on the counter, legs swinging with a half eaten sandwich pinned between his teeth, his thumbs moving rapidly over his phone. Tim glanced up and mumbled something, some sort of greeting, as Dick tugged open the fridge.

 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Dick said, eyeing everything in the fridge and feeling like  _ none _ of it. “It’s rude.”

 

Tim set his phone down next to him, pulling his sandwich from his mouth and chewing, swallowing quickly. “Says the guy that talks with a spoon in his mouth most mornings.” Dick shrugged a shoulder, making a point to not look at Tim, wondering if he had it in him to drive  _ back _ into Gotham, maybe order something… “Hey.”

 

He glanced up at that, because the beta’s voice had dropped, was soft and a little deeper, serious but not unsoothing. Dick met his stare, and Tim set his sandwich down on a plate Dick hadn’t even noticed at first.

 

“Uhm… are you… you know. Okay?” Dick gripped the fridge door a little tighter, and thought the word  _ okay _ had to be the biggest joke of his life.

 

Because he wasn’t

 

He was so thoroughly and completely  _ fucked _ .

 

“No,” he admitted, straightening up. He turned, pushing the fridge door shut. “Where is everyone?”

 

“Bruce had a couple meetings, he was gone before we even woke up. Cass and Damian are in the cave, attempting to put each other in full body casts.” Dick knew that meant  _ sparring _ . “Alfred said he needed to do some shopping.”

 

That meant they were as alone as they’d get, without being isolated atop a roof at two AM.

 

“Dick…”

 

Another swallow, and Dick reached up, rubbed at his own arm. “I’m not okay,” he echoed, having to admit it- and then, because he hadn’t  _ said _ the words out loud, and because this was  _ Tim _ and he trusted him with his life- “I’m pregnant.”

 

If Tim hadn’t set his sandwich down, Dick knew it would have fallen to the floor. “You’re  _ what _ ?” Tim asked, leaning forward- so much so Dick half expected  _ him _ to tumble off the counter.

 

“You heard me.”

 

“Yeah but, maybe I misheard you. Or imagined it. Back track, rewind, repeat.” Dick shook his head- he didn’t have it in him to say again, and Tim reached up, raked a hand back through his own hair. “Shit. I’m… sorry? Is that the word.”

 

“Well it isn’t fucking  _ congratulations _ .” Tim cringed, and Dick knew he didn’t need to be crass with him- not when Tim had taken  _ care _ of him. Had been there when no one else was. But Dick was tense in every muscle in his body, every fiber wrapped around bone.

 

He was just trying to  _ cope _ .

 

Tim hopped off the counter, walking over and standing in front of him, looking up. He reached out, rubbed his hands up Dick’s biceps- and Dick took the silent invitation. He opened his arms, and Tim tugged him in, grasped his hands into the back of his tshirt and let Dick bury his face down into the crook of his shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be alright,” Tim offered, feeling  _ firm _ . Like a rock. “I mean, you’ve faced the world twice over- you’ll figure it out.”

 

Dick wasn’t so sure it was that  _ easy _ .

 

“And… I mean… Bruce likes kids…”

 

Dick straightened up at that, glancing down at the beta. He sucked on his tongue for a moment, before- “Tim… what if it’s  _ not _ his…”

 

Tim went so pale Dick worried he was going to crumple right down to the floor. But a moment and he was recovering, flashing a smile. “No matter what, it’s  _ yours _ . That’s what matters.”

 

Dick wasn’t so sure he bought that.

 

*

 

A part of him had thought to stay, to meet Bruce the moment he came home. To confront him and tell him the  _ truth _ , because there were enough lies between them. But as the minutes ticked and dragged to hours, Dick knew he  _ couldn’t _ . Not yet. He needed a night, a day, a breath to just  _ accept it _ .

 

He took off before Bruce even came home, tore through the streets in his car, going  _ too fast _ towards  _ any _ of his safe houses. He was too afraid Bruce would look for him- even though his gut told him he wouldn’t- and his penthouse was too obvious, to open to the alpha.

 

He ended up in his run down attic safe house, stepping in and breathing in dust and feeling like he was a world away from Bruce. From  _ reality _ . He walked through it, left the light off and headed for his bedroom, tossing the old creaking door open. The round, single window poured the last of daylight into his room, thick ropes of splayed gold that would turn orange, pink, before dusting off into sot and ink for the night. He stood in it for a moment, simply eyeing the bed- thinking the last time he’d curled up here, some six weeks ago, it had been with heat flaring under his skin and a company he would have praised the gods for.

 

Even without thinking his name, Dick’s gut seized up with loneliness. He  _ missed _ Slade. He’d been gone the past few weeks, had taken a job that had carried him overseas, and contact had been sparse, erratic-

 

In that moment, there wasn’t anyone else that Dick wanted. Even if his gut quivered with the same fears it did from the idea of telling  _ Bruce _ , something about Slade was  _ calming _ .

 

He fished his phone from his pocket, unlocking it- and it was like the man  _ knew _ , because there was a text, from ten minutes ago-

 

_ Flying high little bird? _

 

Dick smiled to himself, just staring at it, could hear Slade’s voice in his head. He took the few steps to the bed, turning and flopped down, stretching out, digging on heel into his blankets as his hair splayed on his pillows.  _ Caged _ he sent, even if this safehouse felt like an estate and not a cage, despite it’s dust and creaks and groans. It was  _ enough _ .

 

And then, because Dick couldn’t stop himself-  _ I miss you _ .

 

He wasn’t sure if he would even get a response that day, so he dropped his phone on his chest, closed his eyes. He turned his head, and his pillows still smelled like Slade- like his hair and his pheromones. It made Dick shiver, made him ache for the way the man’s hands knew every plane of his body so well, how  _ calming _ he was. How he  _ stayed _ when others would  _ leave _ .

 

Dick reached down, one hand skimming over his ribs, pausing over his stomach. If he pressed hard enough, he could feel the curves of his abdominal muscles, could trace them with his fingers. It was hard to think that beneath that, within tissue and blood was something  _ growing _ , something making it’s way towards  _ living _ .

 

He sighed, squeezed his eyes tighter, before pushing his shirt up, hand returning to bare skin. It felt no different- but should it have? Dick couldn’t remember how long it took to  _ show _ \- really, knew so little about pregnancy at all, and wasn’t  _ he _ a good role model for his brothers. Two other omegas and a beta, and he was showing them exactly what  _ not _ to do.

 

He sighed, reached back up for his phone, and saw it was blinking. He unlocked it, and there was a new message.

 

_ I miss you too. Will you be waiting when I come home? _

 

Dick knew the question was open for a reason- because he could be waiting, or he could be in someone else’s arms- and Slade would accept either.

 

Dick, however, felt like  _ he _ shouldn’t accept either answer, himself.

 

_ I don’t know _ , he admitted, and added,  _ we need to talk. When are you coming back? _

 

Once he was done he set his phone aside, left it alone in the cold sheets, and stared up at the ceiling. He wasn’t exactly sure  _ what _ he would say to Slade- or hell, to  _ Bruce _ \- but he knew he had to say something.

 

After all, there was something growing inside him, something wanted to take root and  _ life _ \- and one of them had helped create it.

 

\--

 

Dick sat in the safe house for nearly the entire night, feeling slightly guilty for skipping out on patrol. His guilt lessened when Bruce didn't bother to call him and ask him where he was and morphed into something ugly. Dick’s skin itched for movement, action,  _ something  _ other than the thoughts swirling around his head. 

 

He was anxious about Slade coming home to see him, and he was  _ terrified  _ to tell Bruce. Having this conversation once was enough to make him want to scream, and having to have it twice was downright nauseating. He didn't think he had it in him to be sick  _ again  _ that day, so he did the only thing he could think to. Letting instinct take over, he stood and walked to the sparse closet and studied what was inside. 

 

He took out an armful of sheets and blankets, deciding to come back for the extra pillows later. He threw all the linens in a heap on the floor before the bed crawled up on to the bed to adjust what was there already. He fluffed the pillows and arranged them perfectly against the headboard, taking a moment to inhale the sweet scent still lingering on Slade’s. Crawling along the mattress, he stretched the fitted sheet over each corner of the bed, making sure they were tucked neatly under the edges. He then set to folding and placing the other blankets. Once that was done, he went to get the extra pillows, and even ended up bringing the couch cushions in from the living room. 

 

Dick crawled in and burrowed beneath the soft layers of his newly made nest, letting the warmth consume him. He fell asleep without even really deciding to. 

 

He dreamt, but not peacefully. He dreamed that he was consumed within a womb of his own making, trapped and trying to get free. It was too warm, too small, too close - he couldn't breathe. Each inhale brought the filmy walls closer and closer until they were sucking into his lips as he gasped. He remembered being told as a child not to play with plastic bags, but that knowledge wasn't doing him any good now. He tried to swim away, but remained entangled. Deep disembodied voices called to him, one admonishing him, telling him this was his fault and he should have been more careful. The other was softer, but still sounded disappointed, garbled words of soft let down, saying that his life was never meant to be like this. All went dark, and Dick was drowning, air was running out and he was flailing, and falling - 

 

And he awoke in the dark tangled in his blankets, sweating and breathing heavily. After sitting up and taking a moment to collect himself, he removed himself from the nest he had made. The air was cool on his sweat drenched skin and he shivered. Unconsciously, he pressed a hand to the bottom of his belly, feeling so alone but knowing he was the furthest thing from it. 

 

He brushed a hand through his hair and it stayed stuck up in odd places, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His mind was occupied with other things; particularly the fact that he had to tell Bruce. Tonight. 

 

\-- 

 

When Dick walked into the manor, he wasn't surprised that no one was there to greet him. It was late, Bruce was back from patrol by now, and Alfred wasn't expecting to entertain anyone at this hour. He had half hoped to see Tim sitting in the living room with his laptop, but it was deserted. Dick sighed, knowing it was for the best that there were no distractions. He needed to do this, as much as he was dreading it. 

 

He climbed the stairs slowly, quietly, each step putting more and more weight in his chest. He longed to be heading to his own room, heading for a shower and to bed. He wished he could get a good night of sleep before having this conversation, but it was hard enough to catch Bruce alone at night. It was impossible in the day time. 

 

Dick stopped in front of the door to Bruce’s room and curled his bare feet into the plush carpet. This action that felt so familiar to him, that used to be a comfort, was now worming its way into his bones and making his throat close up. He'd knocked on this door hundreds of times, but he knew this time he wouldn't be crawling into bed and trying to be held in his strong arms. Even if a very very small part of him, a part he refused to even acknowledge, hoped for exactly that. 

 

Dick sucked in a final breath and knocked. He couldn't stand out here all night, and he knew he would if he didn't take action. He heard his knock echo on the expensive wood. Silence and small shuffle answered and Dick bit his tongue. 

 

“Bruce? It's just me.” 

 

The door opened as the words were leaving his mouth. Bruce was standing there, clad only in black boxer shorts that clung to his thighs. Dick tried not to look. 

 

“Dick.” 

 

Dick ducked his head and shuffled his toes against the carpet. “Hey...uh-” 

 

“I'm too tired tonight, Dick. I don't want to have sex.” 

 

Dick looked up, shocked and slightly hurt. He narrowed his eyes a bit, looking right into Bruce’s. “I...wow, I was hoping we could talk. I'm more than just a quick fuck, you know.” 

 

Dick bit the inside of his cheek, wishing he had calculated his words a bit better before letting them slip. This wasn't the tone he was hoping their conversation would have. He knew his hopes were closer to fantasy, but he had expected something better than this. 

 

Bruce was silent and Dick again felt like he wanted to vomit for the countless time that day. His stomach knotted and Bruce grabbed his robe from the hook near his door. He tied it around his waist and walked past Dick into the hall. 

 

“Let's go talk then.” Bruce walked down the hall and Dick followed, feeling every bit like the small sad boy he was the first time he followed Bruce down these hallways. 

 

How things had changed. 

 

Bruce led him to the kitchen and turned on the stove to heat a kettle of water that sat there, courtesy of Alfred. 

 

“Tea?” Bruce asked. Dick shook his head, sitting down at the table and tracing patterns into the wood. Bruce poured himself a cup and sat down across from Dick. “What do you want to talk about?” 

 

Dick cleared his throat, trying to expel some of the tightness from it. “Well. Uh. Really, I just have to tell you something.” 

 

Bruce nodded, looking at Dick expectantly. Dick licked his lips, knowing better than to anticipate any spoken cue on Bruce’s end. Dick couldn't remember ever feeling so small. 

 

“Okay. Well.  _ Uhm-” _

 

“Dick.” Bruce interjected, reaching across the table to touch Dick’s hand. Dick flinched before he could stop himself. “Are you okay?” 

 

“I don't know. Yes?” 

 

“What is going on?” The question was more of a command. Dick couldn't put off answering any longer. What was the point, anyway? Waiting any longer wouldn't change the outcome. 

 

“I'm - Bruce, I’m pregnant.”

 

The silence rang and stretched between them. Dick couldn't breathe. 

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

“Uh, pretty sure, yeah.”

 

“Oh.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“You're off patrol.” 

 

Dick barked a laugh and fought the urge to slam his fists on the table. “Yeah, thanks.” 

 

“Until you get rid of it at least.” 

 

Dick felt cold shock wash over him. He had to be dreaming still. This was definitely one of his nightmares. 

 

“Excuse me?” 

 

Bruce was silent now and Dick struggled to inhale around the lump in his throat. Hot tears threatened to spring from his eyes, angry tears. 

 

“You aren't planning to keep it, are you?” 

 

“I…” 

 

“Dick, you know we can't have a child here. We can't have a  _ baby. _ ” 

 

“Oh, right. You're right. We can only have  _ children  _ here when it's convenient for you. When they're not inherently your responsibility. Lucky that you get to just  _ decide  _ which kids to care about. Lucky for  _ me. _ ” 

 

“Dick.” Bruce stood, moving around the table to place his hands on Dick's shoulders, and Dick wanted to lean into the heat of the touch but he couldn't. “I know a few good doctors. You can take your pick, no one even has to kn-” 

 

“No!” Dick was shouting despite the late hour. He stood, dislodging Bruce's hands and turning to face him. “You can't tell me what to do here. You can't just-” 

 

“Is this not partly my decision as well?” 

 

“ _ No!  _ It isn't really.” 

 

“I don't see how-” 

 

“You don't fucking  _ see  _ anything, Bruce, do you?” Dick let his anger rush forth and didn't try to quell it any longer. “For starters, it is  _ my  _ body and if you wanted to pretend it was yours, you had plenty of chances and you passed them all up.” 

 

“Dick-” Bruce reached out for him again but Dick shoved him off. 

 

“And Bruce, you know what? I'm not even sure it's yours.” 

 

“What?” Bruce’s word was flat, cold. 

 

“You heard me. I don't know if it's yours. Maybe if you had paid attention to me when I was in heat and  _ suffering  _ I would know. But you weren't there and I don't know. At this point -” Dick's voice broke, the tears finally coming as he made for the doorway. “At this point I hope it isn't.” 

 

Dick dashed out of the kitchen and down the hallway, still barefoot. He paused to put his shoes back on and glimpsed Alfred coming down the stairs. “ _ Fuck _ .” He cursed under his breath, fighting with his laces with trembling fingers. 

 

“Master Dick?” Alfred called down to him. 

 

Dick looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks and opened the door. “Sorry, Alf. I'm so sorry.” 

 

Dick shut the door behind him and ran, bare feet sticking to the sides of his sneakers. He wished he had grabbed a hoodie, the night had a biting chill to it. He knew he couldn't go back though, not right now. He hoped he would be able to go back  _ eventually,  _ but he honestly didn't know. 

 

Right now, all he knew was that he needed to  _ fly.  _ At the very least, he needed to be up high, where he could get away from all of this and step outside of everything in order to collect himself. He straddled the bike he had ridden and left at the end of the drive and kicked it into gear, trying to ignore the way the cold made the tears he was still shedding sting against his cheeks. He drove the deserted streets on autopilot, maybe a bit too carelessly. Taking a curve he knew by heart, he pulled his bike into an alleyway and parked before springing off the seat and scaling a fire escape. 

 

He climbed until he reached the roof, and paused only when he got there. He stood and took a slow deep breath, the first he had really been able to take all day. The exhale hitched in a sob and Dick gave in, sitting on the edge of the building and curling in on himself. His shoulders heaved as he tried to keep himself quiet. A few moments passed before his phone vibrated in his pocket, two quick buzzes - a text. For a small glimmering moment, Dick thought maybe it was Bruce offering an apology. With clumsy hands he removed his phone and unlocked his phone to see a text. Not from Bruce, but from Slade. 

 

_ Be home early tomorrow morning, baby bird. Will you be there waiting?  _

 

Dick squashed his disappointment and replaced it with the anxiety of having to have this conversation  _ again  _ in less than twenty four hours. He typed back a quick affirmation to Slade and fought down the urge to toss his phone off the edge of the roof. Wrapping his arms around his knees again, he leaned his head back and tried to calm himself down. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the tears. He knew Bruce was not going to take the news well, but he had never expected him to take it so  _ badly.  _

 

He knew Bruce wasn't going to be pleased. He had known that, but that didn't make this any easier. Maybe a small bit of him had hoped that  _ this  _ could be what finally tied Bruce to him. A child could have been exactly what they needed, what would have unlocked the affection he had spent so many years craving and seeking after. He had never anticipated Bruce - Bruce who was so staunchly against killing in any manner - suggesting he terminate the life beginning to grow inside him. The life that he may have helped create. 

 

Dick was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear someone sit down beside him until they placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. Startled, Dick looked over and saw who had joined him, still unable to stop his tears. 

 

“ _ Timmy _ .” 

 

Tim nodded at Dick and opened his arms, inviting his brother in. Dick wasted no time burying his face in Tim's neck, wrapping his arms around his waist and clutching. Tim rubbed a soothing hand along his back, rocking slightly. 

 

“Tim, he...he-” Dick struggled with his words. 

 

“I know, Dickiebird. I heard it all.”  

 

Dick clung tighter, sobs wracking his frame, unable to feel ashamed for the emotion he was showing. The wound was still too raw. 

 

“It’s okay, Dick. It’s okay. We’ll figure something out. I'll help you.” Tim whispered, shushing Dick with soft words. 

 

“I have to tell Slade still. Tomorrow. He’ll be back tomorrow morning.” 

 

“And I'll still be here if you need me.” 

 

They sat quietly for a few moments, Dick getting a hold of himself, sniffling slightly here and there. 

 

“Tim?” 

 

Tim hummed in response. 

 

“I don't want to be alone tonight.” 

 

“That was never an option. I was coming home with you tonight whether you wanted me to or not.”

 

*

 

Dick couldn’t remember if he’d ever brought Tim to this particular safe house- as he shut the door behind them and turned the old lock. The late hour left it in darkness, and Dick thought to flip on the old kitchen light- and then figured it was pointless anyway. He was tired down to his bones, and even though he feared his dreams, he just wanted to  _ sleep _ . To sleep and forget and put off the morning for just a few more hours.

 

Wordlessly, he walked past Tim, who was unzipping his hoodie, toeing off his shoes. Dick had left his shoes by the door, barefeet moving across the old wood, towards his bedroom. When he opened the door he was met by the mess he had left his bed- the tangles of blankets and sheets and pillows- even the old couch cushions.

 

He wanted to slam the door before Tim could see, but the beta was already peeking around him, taking in the sight. There was a quiet, “oh, Dick,” and then Tim’s hand, pressing to the small of his back.

 

Dick bit at his lip, because he just wanted to sob, was choking on keeping it down.

 

“It’s okay,” Tim offered, stepping in properly so the door would swing shut. “Let’s just… lay down. We can make it work.” He guided Dick towards the bed, and Dick let him- too lost in his own head to realize how reversed this was, how there had been plenty of nights where he was in Tim’s shoes, trying to  _ protect _ the beta from the world, from himself.

 

Now he was the one that just needed safety.

 

Tim pulled at the sheets, managing to get an open space. Dick glanced at it, before Tim pulled the sheet down further. “I don’t have to sleep with you,” Tim said, “if you want the space, I’ll put the couch back together. You won’t even know I’m here.”

 

Dick shook his head. His throat had closed up, ached- and he simply didn’t want to speak. But he wanted Tim there, wanted to have someone to curl up with- someone who didn’t  _ look _ at him the way Bruce or Slade did. Someone who loved him but didn’t  _ want _ him.

 

“Okay. C’mon, you can’t sleep in jeans.”

 

Dick stripped down to his underwear- he’d been naked countless times in front of Tim, it was nearly  _ impossible _ to not be when they both returned to the same damn cave so many times after patrol. Once he had, he crawled into the bed, heard Tim fighting with his own jeans, before he crawled in, tshirt still on. Dick flopped over, pushing his face into a pillow- whining when it smelled like  _ Slade _ , and the sound had Tim rubbing the curve of his waist.

 

“It’s going to be okay.”

 

“He wants me to get  _ rid _ of it, Tim,” Dick mumbled, despite his throat still aching. “Like it’s a fucking  _ blight _ .”

 

Tim’s hand paused, and he leaned forward, dug his chin into Dick’s shoulder. Didn’t matter that Dick knew he heard, somehow saying it helped to release the  _ anger _ in him.

 

“Like it’s his fucking choice.”

 

“He knows it’s not,” Tim offered- cringing because he didn’t want to  _ defend _ Bruce, just rationalize him. “You know where he stands on things like this. Your body, your decision. He just…” Tim sighed. “I’m not in his head, I’m not making excuses for him. It’s not his decision, at the end of the day.”

 

Dick pressed his mouth to the pillow, breathing in again, as Tim’s arm slid around him properly- holding onto him as he had the night prior. He pressed his face between Dick’s shoulder blades, hugging him tightly. The omega shut his eyes, tried to relax- tried to think that Tim could be his dreamcatcher, could tangle all his nightmares in his web and keep them far, far away.

 

Except his nightmares had a name and a face and a body and had  _ touched _ him- he had  _ loved them _ and he had worshipped them- and now, now…

 

“I don’t want it to be his,” Dick whispered, as Tim’s hand rubbed along his still-flat belly. “I don’t want it to be Bruce’s baby.”

 

Tim didn’t respond. Dick was glad for it.

 

“But Slade might hate me just as much for it.”

 

“No one hates you,” Tim offered, leaning his head back so he could clearly be heard. “Bruce doesn’t hate you. I know that much. And…  _ listen _ . I might not… Slade’s… Dick he cares about you, no matter what any of us think of him.” Tim shook his head, and Dick was grateful for the lack of lecture on the company he kept- because he wasn’t sure he could stand, feeling like he was letting  _ Tim _ down too. “And I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.” He leaned back in, mouth against the bare skin at the top of Dick’s spine, mumbling, “you’re my brother. I love you.”

 

Dick smiled, softly, one hand reaching down to cover Tim’s against his belly. “Love you too, babybird,” he offered- and feeling Tim smile against his skin was far better than facing the ghosts of his dreams alone.

 

*

 

Dick woke to the creak of the bedroom door- to boots on the wooden floor. He shifted, pushing more into the pillow, feeling Tim groan in his sleep and squeeze tighter, against the noise. It was only when gloved fingers toyed through his hair that he dared to lift his head, barely slitting his eyes open to stare against the morning sunlight.

 

“Good morning, little bird.”

 

“Slade,” Dick offered, around a yawn. He pushed himself up on one hand, dislodging Tim a little, leaving the beta half sprawled on the bed, their legs still tangled together. Groggy and barely aware, Dick wasn’t sure if he was just dreaming- figured he had to, with how to sunlight caught on Slade’s light hair.

 

“I said I’d be home,” he offered, as Dick rubbed at one eye, the alpha glancing past him as Tim began to open his own eyes. “I see you brought home company.”

 

Dick glanced back, just to see TIm bolt into a sitting position, suddenly too alert- not stuck in the foggy sort of comfort Dick had always found, in this place. It was easy to forget this was a strange room to him, that he didn’t feel the ease around Slade that Dick did.

  
“It’s not-”

 

“What I think?” Slade asked, eyes trained on the beta, who squared his shoulders, like it was a  _ challenge _ .

 

“I didn’t want to be alone,” Dick offered, much more awake now, and suddenly feeling the anxiety from the night prior seeping back into his veins. Slade was  _ there _ and that meant he had to do this all over again- had to-

 

“I’m not looking for an explanation,” Slade offered, taking another glance at the bed- at the mess of sheets and pillows, before he sat down on the edge. There was a moment of silence, before he was staring back at Dick, asking sincerely, “Are you alright?”

 

Dick swallowed- and  _ oh _ , maybe he could have had five minutes before diving into this?

 

Behind him, Tim took a single moment to take them in, before shoving the sheet off his legs. He stood up, picking his jeans up off the floor and hopping into them. “You guys need some privacy,” he said, and Dick looked back at him, feeling  _ bad _ .

 

“Tim, you don’t have to just leave.”

 

The beta waved him off, smiling despite his wild, bed tousled hair. “Yeah, I sort of do. But that’s okay. If you need anything,” he stared right at Dick, “You know where to find me. I’m a phone call away. No matter what.”

 

Dick nodded, and Tim glanced past him, at Slade. He held the alpha’s stare, eyes  _ hard _ \- defensive, and not of himself. Slade almost smirked, and Dick caught it, before Tim was walking across the room, letting himself out of the bedroom.

 

Slade didn’t even wait for Tim to open the door to the safe house. “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

“It’s not easy to answer,” Dick admitted, his belly tightening into knots, rolling waves easing up towards his ribs. He did  _ not _ need to be sick right now. Slade only nodded, reaching up, gloved hand on Dick’s cheek now. It smelled like gunpowder faintly, and Dick wondered if he traveled all night just to get here- hell, he was still in his suit, he looked like he had jumped straight from battle into Dick’s bedroom. “Have you slept?”

 

Slade shrugged a single shoulder, and Dick frowned.

 

“Did you… just come straight to me?”

 

“I told you I’d be here early morning. I meant it- now, what’s going on?”

 

Dick chewed at the inside of his cheek, pinched plush flesh between the sharp points of his teeth. What a stark difference to the greeting Bruce had given him- and maybe, for a minute, Dick thought it could be a precursor, a  _ sign _ , that  _ everything _ would be different.

 

And he couldn’t put this off forever… “I don’t even know how to lead into it. I think I’m too tired to figure that out.” He took a breath. “I’m pregnant.”

 

Dick wasn’t sure what he expected- but  _ silence _ wasn’t it. Slade simply kept looking at him, that gloved hand on his warm cheek- but each second dragged, made Dick’s heart sink lower and lower into his chest, until he was so sure the sickness would consume it and him, entirely.

 

“You’re not thrilled,” Dick said, his voice going quieter- and he couldn’t do this again. He  _ couldn’t _ .

 

“I didn’t say that,” Slade responded, pulling his hand back. He pulled at his gloves, shedding them both and dropping them on the floor, before he reached out, got his calloused hands on Dick’s biceps. He gave them a gently squeeze. “You’re sure?”

 

Dick nodded.

 

A beat of silence, an aching throb of Dick’s heart- “You’ve told Bruce already.”

 

A part of Dick  _ hated _ that it felt like Slade was getting the damn mess left behind- that Bruce was given his attention and consideration for the matter  _ first _ .

 

A part of him didn’t give a shit and just wanted  _ one of them _ to hold him and lie and say it’d be alright in the end.

 

“Yeah,” Dick offered, “How did you-”

 

“I’m not an idiot. I’ve never once pretended to not know what you do with that man.” Dick said nothing, and Slade added, “He didn’t give you what you wanted.”

 

“He told me to get rid of it.” Dick folded his arms, wanting to shield himself. “It’s not  _ like _ him. And… it might not be his. It could be yours… I  _ hope _ it’s yours.” Dick wasn’t sure he’d meant to admit that, but thinking about Bruce acting like a damn  _ stranger _ and trying to take control of his body- it made his mouth taste sour. Made him want to lash out in any way he could.

 

Slade’s hands rubbed along his biceps, soothing. “Dick,” he offered, leaning a little closer, breathing slowly. “I’m not a good father, Dick.”

 

That statement alone cracked his heart into countless pieces.

 

“So you don’t want it either.” Dick pulled away, flopping back down to the bed, on his side. He stared at the wall, wrapping his arms around himself. He wasn’t sure if wanted this yet either, but  _ god _ everyone seemed so damn disappointed. And maybe there was something in him that  _ wanted _ someone to be happy. Wanted someone to smile over this-

 

“Little bird.” Slade’s bare hand, on his spine, as he leaned closer, pressed a kiss to Dick’s dark shoulder. “I’m just saying, don’t wish me as a father on a child.” He paused, and then quieter, “I can’t even keep my children alive…”

 

Dick’s ribs felt like they cracked over that, and he knew all their names- he  _ knew _ Rose and he knew Joey, but Grant was far more fragmented, gone as nothing but a ghost now.

 

“They would all tell you I am the worst father they could have been given.” Slade moved his hand up, gripped Dick’s shoulder, tugging gently. Dick rolled onto his back, stared up at him- “But I want to know what you want.”

 

Dick swallowed- before he trembled, because  _ that _ was all he wanted. Someone to ask  _ him _ how he felt.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, one hand moving to his belly out of a strange sort of need now- like he itched to touch, because he knew something was different. “I don’t know. I wanted a family one day- but I guess I never pictured any sort of fixed  _ day _ , it was always just… a point in the future.” He shrugged a shoulder. “But if I had to choose…”

 

_ He’d choose a family over none at all _ .

 

“You never have to choose, little bird.” Slade leaned over, and his lips were warm on Dick’s temple. “I told you I would never make you.”

 

“But for  _ this _ \- I’d choose you.” Dick reached up, traced his fingers past Slade’s beard, along the stubble growing at his cheek. “He didn’t even ask what I wanted.” Slade said nothing, turned to kiss Dick’s wrist, and Dick offered- “And you know, there’s always time to redeem yourself, when it comes to fatherhood.”

 

Slade smiled, and Dick felt it, the pull of his lips against his pulse. “Do I deserve that chance?” he asked, and Dick reached further up, curled his fingers into Slade’s hair.

 

He could only give his own opinion as an answer- couldn’t pass judgement for Rose and Joey and Grant’s ghost- but he thought Slade did- if only because he couldn’t see this man treating anything that was a part of Dick in any sort of way beyond  _ reverence _ .

 

In his gut, he didn’t miss that it should have been Bruce that treated him this way- but in his heart, he just couldn’t care.

 

The silence that spread between them was comfortable. Slade kept his lips pressed up against Dick’s dark wrist, and Dick felt each pulse of his heartbeat beneath them. His mind wandered to the idea that somewhere, deep within him,  there was the beginning of what would be another heartbeat. There was a tiny life inside of him, one that hadn't even truly begun yet, but one that he cared about immensely, if he was honest as the minutes dragged on. He’d choose family over the idea of non at all- and he’d choose  _ Slade _ for this, he knew.

 

And… maybe he could let himself want this. Maybe it was  _ alright _ to want to have this baby, to start a family all his own.

 

Dick knew , if this was going to happen, that he wanted  _ everything  _ for the child,  _ his child.  _ He wanted a better childhood than he had. He never wanted to cause his child to feel alone or sad or  _ anything.  _ And Dick  _ wanted  _ to create that perfect life with Slade. He wanted that so badly it crawled into his chest and created an ache. 

 

Slowly, Slade removed his mouth from Dick’s arm and straightened up. 

 

“Are you hungry, little bird? I'll make us breakfast.”

 

“Scrambled eggs?” 

 

Slade laughed, it rumbled up out of his chest and Dick felt himself smiling, the sound alone taking away the rest of the anxiety that had been sitting inside of him. 

 

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.” 

 

Dick trailed Slade into the kitchen, plucking his phone out of his pocket to send Tim a quick text. He wanted to thank him for being there last night, and he wanted to make sure that he wasn't worrying, he needed to tell him that Slade took the news  _ much  _ better than Bruce had. 

 

Dick sat down on a rickety chair and watched as Slade pulled out a slightly rusty frying pan and ignited the small stove into life. Dick imagined that this was what normal people felt like, two people sharing a small space, just a tiny apartment with the person they loved. And  _ did  _ he love Slade? Dick was slightly alarmed by the thought, but he thought he did. 

 

He watched Slade crack the eggs into the pan, his back toward him. Dick let his eyes linger on his hips and the way the uniform he was still wearing hung on them. His eyes caught on the hard line of his shoulder blades and Dick felt heat stir in his middle. He was definitely undeniably attracted to Slade, but he knew that his affections were deeper than purely physical. 

 

In a way, he felt like he had  _ grown  _ with Slade. Slade was certainly not the man that Dick had met all those years ago, when Dick was still young. He was not a good man then, and Dick knew that he had done things to others that could never be fully forgiven, but he had never met someone who truly felt remorse for the things he had done, the mistakes he had made. Dick knew that Tim and Bruce and the rest of  his family couldn't see past the man he used to be, but Dick could. In fact, Dick had to think very hard to  _ remember  _ the bad things. He knew that their relationship had not started out very healthy, and neither of them tried to deny that. But they had both been young. 

 

And they had both grown so much respectively, that it only made sense for them to grow together as well. Their growth took place over a series of months, many long talks, whispered apologies, soft touches, and nights of slow love making. They relearned each other’s bodies, relearned everything about one another, and perhaps most importantly, let each other be their own person. And try as he might not to compare, Dick knew that was where his relationship with Bruce fell short. Bruce never spoke, and he expected Dick to be a certain way, and Dick never seemed to be able to fill those expectations. 

 

“Are you alright, little bird? You're being awfully quiet.” Slade asked, adding more cheese to the eggs than was strictly necessary - just the way Dick liked them. 

 

“Yes, just thinking.” 

 

Slade hummed. “What about?”

 

Dick was silent for a moment while Slade plated their breakfast and brought it to the table. “Us.” 

 

Slade kissed Dick on the temple before sitting down across from him. “Don't think about that too hard, love. You'll come up with fifty reasons to leave me.” 

 

“And a hundred reasons to stay.” Dick smiled, putting a fork full of food into his mouth. “Hundred and one, counting these eggs.” 

 

Slade laughed again, shaking his head. “Brat.” 

 

\--

 

Dick spent the rest of the day lounging around lazily with Slade. It was a good feeling, staying locked in his strong arms and being cared for. It was a relief not to have to think about anything else for just a moment. Dick had fallen asleep on the couch while they watched a competitive cooking show, Slade’s large hand pressed firmly against his belly, against the life inside. 

 

Dick awoke in their bed, wishing he was still asleep in that pleasant moment as an all too familiar crawling sensation began in his stomach. He exhaled sharply through his nose, trying in vain to keep himself calm, but a burp wormed up his throat and he was out of the bed in a matter of seconds. He left the bedroom as quietly as he could, making his way through the kitchen and to the bathroom with a hand pressed against trembling lips. He stumbled inside, closing the door but not managing to latch it before falling to his knees gracelessly in front of the toilet. 

 

Dick hung his head over the bowl, waiting for the inevitable, regretting eating all the food Slade had insisted upon making yesterday. His stomach gurgled and Dick wrapped his hands around his middle, practically able to feel everything sloshing around inside of him. The thought was sickening and Dick gagged deeply, bringing up nothing but air. Once he started he couldn't stop, another harsher gag immediately followed, bringing up a thin stream of stomach acid. It splashed into the water, and Dick’s stomach responded to the revolting noise with another heave. This time, bits and pieces of undigested food forced its way up his throat and he whined around another retch. 

 

His whole body lurched forward with the force of his heaves and Dick prayed that it would be over soon. He felt dizzy and clammy, he was panting and there were tears collecting in the corners of his eyes, sweat forming along his back. He heaved again and spat, trying his best not to look into the discolored liquid before him. He was so lost in his misery, that he didn't hear Slade enter the bathroom until he spoke. 

 

“Oh, little bird.” 

 

Dick looked up, face pale and cheeks red to see Slade sitting down beside him. He turned back to the toilet, half sure he wasn't finished yet, half embarrassed that Slade had found him like this. “ _ Sorry _ .” Dick gasped, body heaving forward again, coughing wetly. “I didn't -  _ ngh -  _ mean to wake you.” 

 

“You didn't,  sweetheart.” Slade soothed, rubbing a large hand down Dick’s back as be gagged again. “But I wish you had. How long have you been here?” 

 

Dick willed his head to stop spinning do he could think for a moment. “Ten minutes?” 

 

“I’m sorry.” 

 

“S’okay.” Dick mumbled, leaning back into Slade and holding his stomach. Slade slid his hand down Dick’s torso and gently rubbed beneath his ribs. Dick moaned into the touch and leaned even heavier against Slade’s shoulder. 

 

“Do you think you're finished?” Slade asked, his voice soft. Dick nodded. “Let’s get you back to bed. I'm guessing eggs are out of the question this morning.” 

 

Dick groaned, lightly punching Slade in the shoulder as the other man helped him up. The walk back to the bedroom was slow, Dick was shaky on his feet. Slade took the care and time to make sure each step Dick took was sure and steady, supporting most of his weight himself. Dick swelled with gratitude and sighed with relief when his body met the cool mattress again. Slade tucked Dick in with the sheet and soon crawled into bed behind him, wrapping his arms around Dick with a kiss to his shoulder blade.  Dick sighed again, content even though his stomach was still sour around the edges. 

 

Slade nuzzled into the space between neck and shoulder before whispering, “Your phone was ringing. Maybe that brother of yours checking up on you?” 

 

Dick nodded blearily, blindly reaching out for his phone. When the screen lit up, his stomach dropped again and he had to force down a gag, the memory of vomiting his insides out still fresh. 

 

“Dick?” Slade asked, but Dick couldn't find the strength to answer. 

 

Three missed calls. And a voicemail. 

 

All from Bruce.    

 

“Dick?” it was louder now, and Dick glanced up, looked at Slade with slightly dazed eyes. The alpha frowned, leaning heavier into him, glancing over his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to it, when he saw Bruce’s name.

 

“He called three times…”

 

“Did you tell him where you were?”

 

“I don’t have to  _ report _ to him.” Dick didn’t mean to snap, but Bruce left an uncomfortable knot in his belly, was making him feel on edge, staticy under his skin. He shifted, was grateful for Slade’s weight against his back. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and got a kiss to the crook of his neck now.

 

“It’s alright. You should listen to it.”

 

Dick sighed, glancing at Bruce’s name again, before he sat up slowly. The edges of nausea were still there, and he swallowed thickly, before he clicked on the blinking voice mail icon, holding it up to his ear. He leaned forward slightly, as Slade reached up, rubbed the perfect curve of his spine.

 

“Dick.” Hearing Bruce even say his name made him almost shiver- and it was bad but it was  _ good _ and he didn’t like that. “Listen… we need to talk. Come home.” There was a pause, and then- “I’m sorry.”

 

The phone clicked, and Dick let his hand fall down, stared at the phone in it. The option to replay the message flashed, but he ignored it.

 

Bruce was sorry.  _ Bruce had apologized _ . And yet…

 

It didn’t feel like enough. Not to make Dick want to change his mind, in that moment. But-

 

“I have to go home,” Dick whispered, listening to Slade sitting up behind him now. He lifted his head, twisting to look back at the alpha and offering up a sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he said, keeping that sad smile. Slade was quiet, studying Dick, before he reached out, cupped his cheek, rubbed his thumb over his lips.

 

“Don’t be, little bird. I know what he is to you.”

 

Dick shook his head, reaching up and covering Slade’s hand with his own, kissing the pad of his thumb. “He’s a lot of things,” Dick whispered, “but he’s not  _ everything _ . He’s not… what he used to be. Not now.” He shifted, leaned closer to Slade. “I told you, I want this to be with you. He can be sorry, but that doesn’t change my mind. I just don’t want to  _ lose _ him in my life.”

 

Dick couldn’t imagine a life  _ without _ Bruce- even if he had tried, countless times. But maybe he was finally ready to take that step  _ away _ from all the dreams he’d ever had about this man. Maybe he was finally ready to let this part of ihm- of  _ them _ \- go.

  
Maybe Dick was ready to let the dream die.


	3. Chapter 3

It was early evening, when he pulled up to the manor. He left his helmet hanging on his bike handle, making his way towards the large doors and letting himself in. The old house was too quiet around him, and for a moment he just stood there, taking it in-

 

Until there were footsteps, echoed by slightly smaller steps, accompanied with  _ claws _ , and then- “-tt- What are you doing here?”

 

Dick turned towards the voice, flashing a smile at Damian, who stood in the large arch of one of the many hallways, Titus flanking him. The younger omega kept his annoyed face for a moment, before his mouth curved into a grin and he hurried over, tossing his arms around Dick.

 

Dick returned the hug, bowing his head and nuzzling into Damian’s hair, as Titus lumbered over- grey beginning to show on his muzzle and paws now. “Maybe I missed your face, kiddo.”

 

“Unlikely,” Damian mumbled, unwilling to move. With no one to witness, he could allow himself the sort of intimacy he so craved from his mentor.

 

“You don’t know that.” Dick inhaled- and god, he always loved how Damian smelled. Soothing like Tim was, like Dick wanted to wrap up in him and just  _ exist _ .

 

“Uh-huh.” Damian finally pulled back, looking up at Dick. “Are you coming out tonight?”

 

The question made Dick’s stomach drop- because Damian didn’t  _ know _ . And as much as he hated to keep anything from the kid that had been  _ his Robin _ \- he wasn’t ready. Not yet. Maybe once he had cleared the air with Bruce, then he could share with the family, could let himself celebrate that it was growing, and  _ he _ was the cause.

 

“Not tonight.” Dick reached up, squeezed Damian’s shoulder. “I’m just here to talk to your dad.” Damian glanced away, a quiet  _ oh _ , and Dick gave him another squeeze. “But hey- we’ll do something soon, okay? Take Tim with you, he’ll keep you on your toes.”

 

“-tt- Drake will put me to sleep.” There was no venom in the words- and Dick knew it was a blatant lie. He wasn’t even sure why Damian bothered with the show anymore. “Father is in his study. Tell him I am suiting up- and do not keep him too long.”

 

Damian went to pull away, before he thought better of it, and leaned up, smacking his lips in a wet but affectionate kiss to Dick’s cheek. Dick smiled, but the young teen was off before Dick could respond, hurrying towards the cave, Titus quick on his heels.

 

Dick watched him go, allowed himself the pause, before he glanced at the large stairs. He remembered how they seemed mountainous, when he was young. How he tried to count them but he  _ always _ missed one, probably because he was too busy climbing on the banister until Alfred would tell him off.

 

In that moment, they seemed mountainous again.

 

He steeled himself, took a breath, and then marched across the vast foyer. He stepped up the first, the second, the third- then grabbed the banister, as if to keep himself connected, to keep himself going. He forced himself up until his feet hit the next floor, and he turned, staring down a hallway that seemed agonizing, spiraling and maze-like. He reached up, pinched the bridge of his nose, and wondered if maybe the bike ride had been a bad idea.

 

Or if maybe he was just finally going insane.

 

He let his hand fall away, heading down the hallway to the large wooden door that had always seemed like a damn mote, around another world. He knocked on it, leaning close, and from inside could hear Bruce’s voice, granting entrance. He took another breath, before he reached for the handle, turning it and opening. He stepped in, making sure the door shut behind him, as he looked forward, at the old wooden desk that Dick figured was older than Alfred. Had seen plenty of Waynes sitting at it, contemplating their successes-

 

Their failures.

 

Bruce glanced up at him, his hands pausing the shuffling of papers. His eyes felt dark and endless, trying to open Dick up. “Hey,” Dick offered, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You… wanted me to come home.”

 

Bruce set the papers down, pushing his chair back. The wheels rolled heavy on the wooden floor, the leather squeaking as he pushed himself up. He took a step, two, around the desk, pausing at the side of it to continue studying Dick.

 

“I wasn’t sure you would.”

 

“I wasn’t sure I would, either.”

 

Another breath of silence. “I deserved that.” Bruce leaned his hand on the desk. “I’d deserve it if you didn’t come home.”

 

“That sounds like the great Bruce Wayne saying he was wrong.” Bruce glanced away for a moment, and Dick meant it as a joke- but Bruce’s silence was always so ungodly  _ serious _ .

 

“About a lot of things.” He pulled his hand from the desk, moving towards Dick again. He paused three steps away, offering out his hand- beckoning Dick to be the one to close the gap.

 

And, for the last time, Dick reached for his hand, let Bruce’s curl around his, tie them. He stepped into his space, pulled his hand back just to reach up, rub his hands over the lapels of Bruce’s sports coat.

 

“I shouldn’t have said what I did,” Bruce continued, “I… can’t make decisions for you, Dick. You’re not a child- you haven’t been one in a long time. And perhaps if I could have truly seen that, this wouldn’t have happened.”

 

_ This _ , Dick knew, wasn’t just the life growing inside him. “We’d still have been stuck in the same dance,” Dick offered, pausing his hands’ movement and splaying them. “ _ Batman _ and  _ Robin _ \- just two suckers in love when all the lights are off, and too scared to let it be anything when they’re  _ on _ .” He flashed a smile, sad but dazzling, and he saw Bruce’s eyes going soft. “I loved you, you know. More than I thought I’d ever love anyone in my life.”

 

And those soft eyes, Dick saw how much they  _ hurt _ . “You never deserved what I did to you.” Bruce’s hands found his waist, tugging him in closer. “Especially lately. But a part of you is always going to be the boy I rescued- and I don’t know how to separate you two. What I feel around you, it couldn’t be for him.”

 

Dick nodded- and he understood that. He wasn’t blind to the reasons Bruce had always kept this cellophane like wall up between them. Because Dick should have been so many things- but  _ lover _ was a title that seemed taboo. And yet- here they were.

 

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Bruce admitted, “but I hope you can accept that I regret who I’ve been.” Dick let the smallest, saddest smile curve at his lips. “And know that I loved you the only way I could.”

 

Dick bowed his head, pressed his forehead against Bruce’s collar bone, and those arms went around him, held him there. He inhaled deeply, let himself get dizzy over Bruce’s scent, and smiled over it. “I do,” he whispered, “I know. But… it’s gotta stop. All of this.” He forced himself to look up, to catch Bruce’s stare. “I can’t do it anymore, Bruce. I don’t  _ want _ to.”

 

“You don’t deserve to.” Those big hands splayed on his back. “I want you to be happy. I can’t hoard you any longer. I won’t do that to you- just… be careful, Dick.” Bruce leaned down, and his mouth pressed to the bridge of his nose. “I can let you go, but I can’t  _ lose _ you.”

 

Dick felt a bit of heat in his cheeks- and this was what he had always wanted from Bruce. This tenderness, the admission of how much he truly meant to the man-

 

Fitting, how it came only as a sordid goodbye.

 

“I’m going to have my baby,” Dick admitted, as Bruce pulled back. He let one hand leave Bruce’s chest, splay on his own belly, his knuckles brushing Bruce’s.

 

Bruce nodded. “You’ve told Slade, I take it?”

 

Dick nodded. “I did. I’m going to raise this baby with him, Bruce.” He flexed his fingers, and Bruce sighed, softly.

 

“And if it is mine?”

 

Dick didn’t hesitate. “I’ll raise it as Slade’s- in the end, it doesn’t matter. The baby is  _ mine _ \- and I’m choosing him.” He moved to lean back, the back of his hand no longer touching Bruce. “No matter who the father is, the baby will have Slade. And… I hope it’s his.”

 

There was a mingling of ache, of agony, in Bruce’s eyes- but he didn’t express it, and Dick was glad for it. He didn’t think he could stand it. Instead, Bruce pulled his hands from Dick’s back, reached down and covered the hand on his belly with both of them. “I’m proud of you,” he offered, “for being your own man. For cutting out what hurts you.”

 

“Bruce…”

 

He was shaking his head. “You don’t need to say anything else. I only ever wanted the world for you, Dick. I still do- and being away from me, it’s the only way you’ll get it.” He pressed his hands tighter for a moment, before pulling them back. “There’s nothing else to say.”

 

Dick cracked a half smile, and in a light tone- “There is.” He paused, Bruce watching him expectantly, before Dick added, “Damian said not to keep you long.”

 

Bruce cracked a smile- an honest to god  _ smile _ , like Dick hadn’t seen in a long time- and shook his head. “I best not keep him waiting.”

 

“Princes don’t care for that.” Dick stepped back, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. “He still doesn’t know. If… if you’re alright with it, I’d like to stay tonight? Maybe I’ll take him out tomorrow for brunch, and he and I can talk. Not sure he’ll be thrilled about something  _ else _ small and cute taking up my attention.”

 

“Careful he doesn’t hear you refer to him as small and cute.” Dick laughed, and it felt  _ good _ to laugh around Bruce again.

 

Maybe this was what they had needed all along- an end to everything. So they could start over, as they should have always been-

 

Partners,  _ family _ \- but lovers?

 

Only in memory.

 

\-- 

 

Dick sat, curled up with a pillow in his lap and a mug of tea in his hands on the overstuffed couch in the living room of the manor. He was mindlessly flipping through channels, not really caring what was on but feeling content anyway. He was feeling the most at peace he had felt in months, and while letting Bruce go was still a bittersweet feeling, it cleared the air around them. It had quelled the anxiety constantly threatening to rise in Dick’s chest. 

 

He had spoken with Tim for a few minutes before the beta went downstairs to the cave to monitor Bruce and Damian on patrol. It was nice to see him again, and even better that he understood exactly what was happening. Telling Damian in the morning was going to make for interesting breakfast conversation, but Dick felt like it wouldn't be  _ too  _ bad. 

 

As it was, he was sitting now, flipping past news outlets and old westerns, texting Slade. It felt nice. Domestic, almost. They weren't talking about anything in particular, not since Dick had told him the conversation with Bruce went well and that they were over. Dick felt a little giddy about it, like he was texting a new boyfriend. Slade had sent him a picture of the dinner he had cooked - some delicious looking pasta dish - and Dick had sent him a picture of the tea he was drinking. 

 

He set the remote down, some outlandishly colorful cartoon playing in the background, and turned his phone camera on again. He held his phone up to get a shot of his face in the blueish glow from the television. His hair was a little messed up, sticking up in some places, but Dick thought it looked cute. He made a face somewhere between a smile and a pout and took his own picture. Laughing to himself, he sent it to Slade with no explanation other than the caption:  _ a dick pic.  _

 

Slade responded almost immediately with one word.  _ Brat.  _

 

Dick smiled, knowing that Slade meant it affectionately, just like he always did. He waited a moment before sending back:  _ a cute brat.  _

 

Slade didn't answer immediately after that, but that was okay. It was a natural break in the conversation, and Dick would have to get up soon to get more tea anyway. He shifted, feeling a little stiff and sore, probably from sitting in the same position for such a long time. He moved the pillow, trying to rearrange his legs when pain blossomed in his lower back. 

 

He hissed, squirming forward, trying to escape the pain, but it only got worse. It spread to his lower stomach and Dick gasped. Was this normal? He assumed there would be some cramping involved in the whole process, but hadn't he suffered through enough morning sickness at this point? He grit his teeth and he felt his face going pale. It  _ hurt.  _

 

He swallowed thickly, trying to breathe through it and separate himself from the pain. He thought about texting Slade and asking if he knew if this was normal. The thought vanished almost as quickly as it had come when a familiar wave of nausea passed through him, and Dick was sure he was going to vomit. Huffing an annoyed breath through his nose, Dick stood, knocking both the pillow and his phone onto the ground. The mostly empty mug of tea went as well, spilling the last few sips on the seat of the couch. Dick would deal with that later though, because as he stood the pain increased  _ again.  _

 

He groaned loudly, almost wanting to scream. He began to panic slightly. Something was wrong. There was no way this was  _ right.  _ He swore he could feel something moving around inside of him - but no, he had to be imagining that. He couldn't breathe, his chest was caving in and he couldn't do anything about it. 

 

He limped toward the bathroom, pain radiating from his lower back up his spine, from his stomach down between his legs. He had never felt pain  _ quite  _ like this before. It felt like his insides were on fire, trying to claw their way out through his skin. He wished that someone was home. He was terrified. 

 

His stomach roiled and Dick focused on what he had to do - get to the bathroom and away from all the fancy upholstery in the manor. The trek there seemed to take forever, each step more painful than the last. Finally, he shut bathroom door behind him, hating the mirror that hung on the back of it. He didn't want to see what he looked like right now. He knelt in front of the toilet, familiar with this position and waited. 

 

Dick hung his head forward and grit his teeth, a long groan escaping them as another cramp ripped through his insides. He tried to curl tighter in on himself, in hopes of calming his muscles. His back and his hips contracted and he gasped. He could feel sweat prickling against his scalp and he was sure his stomach was about to give up. Or he hoped. He had half a thought to stick his fingers down his own throat. 

 

Another sharp radiating pain in his back and he was panting, leaning forward. Inexplicably, he felt a strange sort of wetness begin to spread between his legs. Fuck, had he  _ pissed  _ himself? 

 

Dick looked down, bewildered. He saw a small stain spreading across his lap on his light sweatpants. His blood froze, he was mortified. But, it looked much darker than urine. His stomach turned in a way that had nothing to do with the pain. He looked in the mirror that hung on the back of the door behind him and saw a smear across the back of his pants as well, a smudge on the floor where he had been sitting. 

 

Red. 

 

Bright red. 

 

Dick stood, tearing his pants away from his legs and sitting on the toilet. Red smeared down his thighs and Dick’s vision wavered. Blood. There was blood on his legs, blood coming out of him. And the pain was still there, heightening and squeezing his insides. He wished he had brought his phone. He needed someone. Tim, Slade, even Bruce. Just _someone._

 

He felt something slide from between his legs and he sobbed, bringing his fists down onto his knees. He rocked forward, more sliding from within him. 

 

No.  _ No.  _ This was  _ not  _ happening. 

 

Dick knew what this meant. He knew. But he still reached down between his legs and was horrified when his fingers came back covered in blood. He reached up to grip his fingers in his hair, smearing some of the blood on his temple. Dick sobbed, deep and wracking. He felt cold, freezing. He was shivering and he knew it. Was this shock? 

 

He still couldn't breathe. He was sobbing and couldn't get enough air in his lungs and he was going to die here in the bathroom. Right next to his - 

 

_ No.  _ No. He didn't know for sure. This couldn't be real. It was a nightmare. He would wake up any second with Slade’s arms around him, or on the couch in the manor covered with a blanket that Alfred had draped over him. He would wake up  _ anywhere  _ other than here, in this reality. 

 

Dick wasn't even sure when his sobs had turned to screams, but at some point they had and someone was knocking urgently on the door. He whimpered, trying to quiet himself, still sitting with his pants around his ankles, smudging blood against the white porcelain. 

 

“Master Dick? Master Dick, please. I'm going to come in if you don't answer.” 

 

“ _ Alfred _ .” Dick sobbed. “Alfred  _ please.”  _

 

The old man was inside before Dick had even finished saying his name the first time. Dick heard him gasp and felt him cross the room. 

 

“ _ Dick.  _ What happened?” 

 

“ _ Help.”  _ was all Dick could manage. 

 

And Alfred was there. Dick leaned forward, too distraught to care if he was making a mess of his butler’s shirt. Dick gasped out a sob and couldn't exhale. Alfred rubbed a hand down his back and let Dick cry. 

 

His sobs didn't even out. Instead, they became more erratic and messy. Snot, drool, and tears falling from his face. Dick was inconsolable. 

 

“Tell-  _ tell me  _ \- this isn't happening.” Dick moaned into Alfred’s shoulder. 

 

The man shushed him, holding his own tears back. “We have to call Bruce. Get a doctor.” 

 

Dick whined, closing his eyes. He wanted to shut himself away from this entire situation. He wanted  _ out.  _ Alfred helped him up and he rose numbly. He didn't have the strength to put up a fight right now. Alfred helped him into a robe that was hanging by the shower - blissfully black. Dick stuttered on an inhale as Alfred reached to flush the toilet. 

 

“ _ Don't. _ ” Dick hissed, his body feeling empty and cold. “Please don't.” 

 

*

 

Dick could hear voices from where he was curled up, on his bed. He was still in the robe, hadn’t changed a thing. He could feel dried blood sticking to his skin, his arms wrapped around his legs, bare feet curled on the edge of the bed. His forehead was against his knees, his eyes shut. They stung, but his cheeks were stained with so many tears that his body had none left to give.

 

The voices were hushed. One was Alfred, he knew- and god, he wanted the alpha back in the room. He’d nearly torn at hi when Alfred had left, once, to go down to the cave. He’d come back only a few minutes later, but Dick had been out of his mind. He didn’t want to be alone- he needed someone to  _ wake him up _ .

 

This couldn’t be real at all.

 

There was a knock at the door- it was more for  _ announcement _ than permission- and then it was opening, and Alfred was stepping back in-

 

And the hurrying around him was Tim. The beta looked like he had torn his suit off, sweatpants twisted slightly, his tshirt inside out. But he was standing next to the bed, and without a word reaching out, curling his arms around Dick tightly. Dick stayed unmoving for a moment, before he lifted his head slowly, could only see the faded orange of Tim’s shirt. Tim squeezed, but Dick didn’t respond, licked his lips and breathed in the scent of clean but well-worn cotton.

 

When the beta leaned back, looked down and saw the red of his eyes, the tear stains on his face, he looked broken. He gave a quiet, “oh, Dick,” and Dick unfolded, pitched forward. A new sob broke out of him as he wrapped his arms around Tim, clutched at him desperately and sobbed into his shirt. His eyes burned with the effort, producing a few tears, as Dick choked, couldn’t breath his spit was so thick. “I’ve got you,” Tim mumbled, holding tightly. Alfred was still standing in the doorway, a protective set of eyes watching over. Tim rocked him gently, as Dick rubbed his face into his shirt, wanted to be absorbed in that moment until the nightmare was over.

 

Dick didn’t move until his sobs began to quiet. He sucked in a breath, and one of Tim’s hands was moving up to his hair, stroking gently. The beta leaned down, kissed the top of his head.

 

“Hey,” Tim whispered, “think you can get up for me? We… you should take a shower.”

 

The idea had Dick’s stomach clenching up. He groaned, didn’t want to see himself- didn’t want to see the blood he could  _ feel _ . But Tim was reaching down for his waist, giving a gentle tug. Dick unfolded, his legs hanging off the bed, before he was sliding forward, and Tim was helping him to stand. The beta got one of Dick’s arms around his shoulder, gave Alfred a quick glance, before guiding him towards the bathroom.

 

Once inside, Tim shut the door, left Dick to sit on the closed toilet as he headed for the shower. He pulled the door open, turning the water on, waiting and tapping a foot as it warmed up. Dick vaguely watched but barely registered, until Tim was back, working the robe off his shoulders. “C’mon Dick,” he said softly, “let’s get you in there and then get you laying down.”

 

Dick said nothing, felt like his throat had closed up. He saw but he  _ didn’t _ , and somewhere maybe he realized this truly was shock. But his brain was shutting down, and all he could do was let Tim slowly undress him.

 

Once Tim had him standing and got his sweatpants down his thighs, saw the dried blood, he gave another gasped  _ oh Dick _ , and Dick hiccuped a broken sob, was so sure he was going to die and that would be  _ better _ than this.

 

When he stepped out of the clothing, everything left strewn all over the floor, he was ushered over to the shower. He stepped in with Tim guiding him, the beta getting mist on his arm and in his hair. “Just wash up,” he said, “I’ll be right back.”

 

“Don’t leave,” Dick croaked, and Tim leaned halfway into the shower, one shoulder of his shirt catching the stream and getting wet.

 

“I’ll be back,” he said, staring at Dick with eyes like constellations. “I swear it. I’m not leaving you.” Dick nodded, and TIm pulled back, shutting the shower door.

 

Dick stood there, let the hot water pelt against him. He leaned into it, closed his eyes, let it run over his hair, into his face. He tried to cling to the feeling, tried to focus on how it made his skin feel raw- it was on the  _ too hot _ side, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn the head down. A few drops trickled down his back, tickling his spine.

 

He leaned back just slightly, reached up and brushed his wet hair back, opening his eyes. He glanced at the rack of various soaps, grabbing one and the cloth left hanging above them all. The soap smelled too sweet, some sort of sickeningly strong citrus scent, as he poured it onto the wet cloth. He reached down, blindly pressing the cloth against his inner thighs, rubbing the suds into his skin. He stared, hard, at the wall in front of him, unsure he could even dare to look-

 

But he felt like he  _ had _ to.

 

Dick took a deep breath, glancing down- and the suds rolling down his legs, towards the drain, were a sick sort of parody-pink. He gasped, pulling back and dropping the cloth on top of the soaps, making a fist- before he slammed it into the wall in front of him, gritting his teeth and feeling his knuckles ache on the impact. The pink subs clung to his fingers and nails, and he could feel them still moving over him. He thought he might retch, inhaling and the smell infiltrating his nose again.

 

He heard the bathroom door then, opening, and the sound of Tim shuffling around. He was pulling back his hand, cradling it to his chest, when Tim’s knuckles wrapped on the shower door.

 

“Everything okay?”

 

“I feel sick,” Dick admitted, and Tim was sliding the door open, leaning in slightly. He glanced at Dick and those eyes were so damn sad. 

 

“Do you… want me to do it?” Tim asked, but Dick shook his head- he was fairly sure if anyone touched him like that, he really  _ would _ vomit. “Okay. Take a deep breath and look at me.” Dick did, inhaled, and with the shower door open, the citrus scent was dissipating slightly. Over it, he could smell Tim- the beta smelled like warm coals and something sugary-  _ crisped marshmallows _ Dick used to tease, but it was true and it made the tension in his shoulders ease. “You’re okay. I swear it Dick.”

 

Dick wanted to believe him- he just wasn’t sure he could.

 

It took too many long minutes, after Tim closer the shower door again, for Dick to finish cleaning up. Trying to wash the blood from between his thighs had made his stomach roll- he felt tender and sore in all the wrong ways, didn’t like the feeling of his own fingers along his skin at all. But when the water finally ran clear he was shutting it off, opening the door-

 

And there was Tim, offering up a huge, fluffy towel. Took took it, rubbed it over his face first, sighing because it smelled  _ clean _ , smelled like the same damn laundry soap Alfred had been using since he was a boy. He took a deep breath, rubbed his face into it a second time, before he took to drying his shoulders. Tim had turned around, gave him so privacy as he tried to dry the rest of him.

 

It was only when Dick was settling the towel on the sink that Tim glanced back, then turned, stooping down to pick up the pile of clothing he’d brought in and dropped, in favor of the towel. He held it out, and Dick took them. “I’ll be right outside the door,” Tim offered, and Dick nodded, watched him sneak out. He glanced around the bathroom- but his clothes, even the robe from earlier, were nowhere to be found. Somehow he had missed Tim cleaning up the mess completely.

 

Dick dressed, could admit that he felt  _ better _ with clean clothes, without the sweat sticking to his spine. He moved across the bathroom, let himself out, and Tim had pulled his blanket down, was hovering by the bed. Dick glanced at it-

 

And he felt dead tired. Shock and stress and  _ pain _ had left him drained, and he just wanted to curl up. He headed for the bed, crawling up onto it, collapsing on his side, and Tim was pulling the blanket up over him, tucking it around him like Dick could remember doing, nights when Tim had been sick and he’d sat up with the beta.

 

“Can you,” Dick started, licking his lips. His throat felt dry but he didn’t dare put anything inside him. “Stay?”

 

“Of course.” Tim crawled onto the bed, sat behind Dick, legs folded up just behind his back. He rubbed his hand along the curve of his side, over the blanket, and Dick sighed, closing his eyes.

 

“You got your shirt wet,” he mumbled, and Tim laughed- but it sounded slightly forced.

 

“S’okay. Think I’ve got more.” He reached up, rubbed his fingers through Dick’s still damp hair. His fingers, the light scratch of his nails against his scalp, was soothing, and Dick gave into the shock, gave into the need to utterly shut down.

 

He dozed, wasn’t sure for how long- but when he came to, it was to the sound of his door open, but mumbled voices. He was groggy, sleep heavy, but he could make out Alfred-

 

“I’m quite sure. There was a lot of blood, sir.”

 

And behind him, Tim, “He’s in shock.”

 

Dick grunted, tried to open his eyes but they refused. And then there was a large hand on the back of his head, stroking back, and he wanted to badly to turn to it.

 

There was a bit of garbled speech, he heard the word  _ doctor _ , and must have managed a feeble  _ no _ , because suddenly the hand was pulling away.

 

“Dick?” he heard, the voice heavy, and he tried to lift his eyes. He finally got his eyes to slit open, but everything was blurry. His head collapsed back to the pillow, as he heard lighter footsteps, walking into the room. More voices, but he was fading,  _ fading _ -

 

And then he was out again, quicker than he had slipped the first time.

 

*

 

When Dick came to, he had shifted to the middle of his bed. He was on his belly, face pressed into the pillows, aware of heat all around him- some nuzzled right into his side, arms tight around him and legs tangled in his- another hand tight in his tshirt, a face against his shoulder. He shifted, hips moving, and there was a cramp in his lower belly- nothing at all like what he’d felt the night before, but uncomfortable still.

 

He gave a little groan, and suddenly the light heat on one side was sitting up, the hand clutching at his shirt letting go. Dick turned his head, stared up through his wild hair- having dried while he tossed and turned- and found Tim looking down at him, far too alert.

 

“Hey,” Tim whispered, reaching out and brushing his hair back. Dick croaked out  _ hey _ , and his throat felt like a desert. Tim smiled over it, fingers moving from his hair down his cheek, before back over his neck, between his shoulders. Dick winced, another cramp coming up. “You okay?”

 

“Cramps,” he managed, and Tim nodded.

 

“That’s… pretty normal. Let me go get you something.” Dick didn’t stop him as Tim climbed out of the bed, padding over the plush carpet of Dick’s bedroom in his barefeet. When he was out the door Dick twisted, tried to roll, and became even more acutely aware of someone still clinging to him. Breaking more into a waking state, he managed to squirm onto his back, as a rather disgruntled but still sleeping Damian huffed over that, refusing to untangle.

 

Dick stared down at him, the teen’s face pushed into his ribs. He reached down, a hand hovering over his hair, fingers shaking-

 

Damian always looked impossibly young when he slept, and it always  _ did _ something to Dick. Made him want to wrap him up, made him want to protect him like he was  _ his _ -

 

Made him feel  _ paternal _ .

 

He finally let his hand come down, stroke through his hair, as Damian nuzzled into him, shifting his legs, one foot rubbing against Dick’s calf. Dick felt his chest going tight, his throat closing up- this was his, this was what he could have had, should have had-

 

_ Wouldn’t. _

 

His eyes stung and he squeezed them shut, just as Tim slipped back into his room. The beta walked around the bed, and Dick tried to calm himself, suck in a breath and force his eyes open.

 

“I brought you some painkillers,” Tim said, managing to get up on the bed, holding out a glass of water. “Also thought you might be thirsty. Alfred said you can have ‘em, that… you might have cramps for a day or two.”

 

Dick managed to sit up, Damian being shuffled until he was sliding, nuzzling against Dick’s thigh, head pooling in his lap. Dick took the water, before Tim pressed the pills into his other palm. Dick threw them back, sucked down a mouthful of water, and swallowed. Once they were down he drained the cup, his throat still feeling parched, before Tim was taking the empty cup, setting it aside. When he turned back, Dick was looking down at Damian again, reaching his fingers into his hair.

 

“He came in when they got back from patrol,” Tim offered, “you woke up for a moment. He… crawled into bed and wouldn’t leave. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

 

Dick might have smiled, but the action felt like an impossibility. He shook his head, had never cared when Damian crawled into bed with him. The kid was a walking space heater, and Dick had so many open slots in his ribs that he had let his Robin fill-

 

Quietly, he whispered, “he looks so young.” He glanced up, and when he stared at Tim the beta looked so sad again. Tim reached out, and it was only when his fingers were sliding along Dick’s cheeks that Dick realized there were tears on them. That he was crying again.

 

“I’m sorry,” Tim whispered, as Dick looked back down.

 

This could have been his. Sure, Damian wasn’t a  _ small child _ , but the situation- Dick could have been sitting in bed, years down the road, with his child pooled in his lap, sound asleep. Could be watching the baby he had just come to know  _ could have even existed _ -

 

That he had gotten and lost, within a mere breath.

 

Damian shifted, his eyes cracking open, and he glanced up. Sleepy, heavy eyes, those flushed cheeks- and Dick lost it. A sob hiccuped out of him, and Tim reached an arm around his shoulders, leaning in and pressing his cheek to his shoulder. His hand rubbed along his opposite bicep, and Damian was suddenly pushing himself up, swaying on his knees for a moment and staring with those sleepy eyes. “Grayson?” he whispered, and Dick was shaking his head.

 

“Fine,” he whispered, “I’m fine.”

 

He wasn’t.

 

He was a terrible liar.

 

Damian stared at him for a moment, before his arms were around his waist. He pressed his cheek to Dick’s chest, holding so damn tightly- and Dick sobbed, wrapped his arms around him and clutched him close. He whined and trembled and felt  _ so worthless _ , as Tim squeezed him tighter, his other arm trying to encircle him- his hand ending up pressed to Damian’s back.

 

“It’s alright Grayson,” Damian mumbled, and Dick wondered if he  _ knew _ . If someone had explained the  _ mess _ he had been to this child-

 

If someone had looked him in the eyes and told him how broken his mentor had become.

 

He sucked in a breath, felt like his stomach was churning down the water he had drunk, as Damian rubbed his cheek against him slightly. Neither brother was speaking to him, but Dick didn’t need words- the surrounding heat was helping to keep the trembles at bay, and as he let the sobs out, they slowly subsided. Eventually they were just hiccuped breaths, tiny sniffles, and then Damian was lifting his head.

 

“We’re here,” he offered, and Tim nodded, turning and resting his chin on Dick’s shoulder.

 

“We’ve got you Dick. It’s alright.” He squeezed again, looked like he might have said more, before there was a sharp knock at the door. A moment later and it was opening, Bruce filling it and watching for a moment, studying the three.

 

Dick looked up at him, and wished so badly the world would crack open, would just take him away so he didn’t have to face this. Behind Bruce Alfred appeared, as Bruce walked across the room, very slowly. He sat on the edge of the bed, reached out and carefully let his hand rest on Dick’s knee, the blanket separating them. He squeezed, didn’t say a word, and Dick clutched a little tighter at Damian.

 

“Can we have a moment?” Bruce asked, looking at Tim and then Damian. Both didn’t move for a moment, seemed hesitant to pull away- before Tim was finally untangling. He climbed off the bed, walking around it to stand next to Bruce, reaching out and offering his hand to Damian. The youngest sighed, gave a little scowl like he truly didn’t  _ want _ to leave, but then turned, accepted Tim’s hand and let him pull him from the bed.

 

The moment they were gone, Dick missed their heat.

 

“We’ll be back, okay?” Tim said, and Dick nodded. Tim turned, kept Damian’s hand in his, their fingers tangled together, leading him away. Dick might have commented, might have loved to think about how far this family had come over the years, but he couldn’t see outside himself, in that moment.

 

When the door was shut and they were gone, and it was just Dick and Bruce, Dick heard him say, “I’m sorry.” Dick glanced up, dragged his eyes to meet the alpha’s-

 

And he  _ believed _ him.

 

Dick bit at his lip, felt his shoulders trembling. He didn’t know how his body could even churn out more tears at this point. He reached down, pressed a flat hand to his belly- felt empty. And it was  _ stupid _ , he wanted to say, because it had been so early there was barely anything in him at all but-

 

“I feel like I’ve been gutted,” Dick admitted.

 

“You’ll cramp up for a day or two- you might bleed a bit for the next week. As long as it doesn't escalate and stops, you should be alright. You should see a doctor but-” Dick snapped his eyes up, and Burce promptly stopped for a moment, before he said, in a tone that was  _ meek _ and so unlike him, “Oh. You didn’t mean that.”

 

Dick shook his head, wrapped his arms around himself now. “Feels like I’m hallow up to my ribs.”

 

“You’re still in shock.” Bruce lifted his hand from Dick’s knee- reached out and hovered for a moment, before it clamped on his shoulder. “You just experienced  _ trauma _ , Dick.”

 

Dick said nothing, licked his lips. And then, softly, “I killed my baby.”

 

“No.” Bruce shook his head, reaching out, leaning over him- and then his arms were around him. Dick leaned into it, rested his cheek on Bruce’s shoulder. “Dick, you didn’t. These things… they  _ happen _ . You don’t always know why. But this is not your fault.”

 

Dick said nothing, closed his eyes and just let Bruce hold him. It was different, it was  _ good _ to have the man cradling him like he had when Dick used to have nightmares- when he used to wake up screaming because he was  _ falling _ , falling down to join the twisted, broken shapes of his parents. When the cracks of thunder sounded like the snapping of swinging lines and he wanted nothing more than to sink his fingers into his ears and eyes and block everything out.

 

He rubbed his cheek against his shoulder, as Bruce added, “No one will ever blame you.”

 

Dick let that settle over him, and wanted to believe it- but then he was shaking, he was trembling down to his damn bones-

 

Because there was someone so desperately important  _ missing _ .

 

He reached up, clutched at Bruce’s arms. “Slade,” he whispered, and if the alpha had any distaste for hearing Dick call for the other man, he never showed it.

 

“He’s not here, Dick.” Dick squeezed his eyes shut tighter, and Bruce rubbed a heavy hand. Bruce was quiet for a moment, before he offered, “He won’t blame you.”

 

“How can you say that?” Dick asked, sitting up, looking wild and broken. And maybe, in that rational part of him that was trapped and drowning, he knew Bruce was  _ right _ . If Bruce could see that about Slade, Dick could too.

 

But he wasn’t rational. He was  _ hurt _ .

 

Bruce only shook his head, guiding Dick back down. He cradled him, and Dick let himself sink back into his head, as Bruce offered, “If he loves you, he’ll understand.”

 

And Slade  _ did _ love him- but Dick still couldn’t bare the thought that, somehow, he had to tell him.

 

And even more than that, he couldn’t stand the fact that he wasn’t in his arms, wasn’t mourning this loss  _ with _ him.

 

\--

 

Dick stayed curled with Bruce, hiccuping silent sobs, trying to drink in the comfort he was providing. He was so lost inside his own grief, he had no idea what the two boys who had just left his bed were doing in the living room. 

 

Tim was rooting through the cushions on the couch, lifting up the pillows and looking beneath them, trying to ignore the still wet spots on the floor from where Dick had spilled his tea earlier. 

 

“Drake, what are you doing?” Damian asked, his voice almost as small as body. 

 

“Looking for Dick’s phone. I'm sure he wants it.”

 

Damian nodded and started to help Tim look. “It's on the table.” 

 

Tim snatched it up and woke the screen. “ _ Shit.”  _ He breathed as he saw how many texts Dick had. All from one person, each with increasing worry than the last. 

 

“What is it?” Damian asked, almost unsure about what else could possibly be  _ wrong  _ at this point. 

 

“Slade.” Tim whispered. He ignored Damian’s questioning and almost reproachful look in favor of reading the messages. With his heart in his throat, Tim made a decision and began to type out a message. 

 

_ Hi Slade. This is Tim, I have Dick’s phone. He's really not okay right now. Can I call you?  _

 

The message sent and not even a full minute later, the phone in Tim’s hand began to ring. The prompt response startled him. Tim took a breath and answered the phone. 

 

“Hello.” 

 

“Tim. Where's Dick? What happened?” Slade asked, his voice dripping with very poorly concealed worry. 

 

“I...I can't do this over the phone. You need to talk to him. Can...can you come over?” Tim heard his words echoing around in his head. He sounded tired, even to himself, and he couldn't bring himself to care if this was a good idea or not. “To the manor. I know you know where it is. I'll have Alfred let you in.” 

 

Silence answered for a stretching moment before Slade answered. “I'll be right there.” 

 

Tim stood, the phone still pressed to his ear. Damian was looking at him, no doubt wondering what he was going to tell Bruce. Tim wasn't sure, but he knew that Bruce would understand this once.  _ For Dick.  _

 

Tim began to walk down the hall, Damian following closely behind him. He knocked on Dick's bedroom door and Bruce’s voice answered him. They walked inside and were met with much the same scene that they had left. Dick clung to Bruce, his eyes squeezed shut. 

 

“Slade?” He whispered in a small voice. 

 

Tim caught eyes with Damian first, and then Bruce before answering. “He's coming, Dick. He's on the way.” 

 

\-- 

 

Dick felt Bruce nod above him and he was terrified that the alpha was going to leave. Even though Tim and Damian were back, Dick didn't know if he could deal with being away from the soothing pheromones the alpha was giving off. 

 

Dick settled in, snuggling against Bruce again. He knew he must still have been pretty out of it, because he swore it sounded like Tim had said Slade was coming. He wished desperately that he could shake the fuzziness out of the corners of his vision, wished he could stop  _ trembling.  _ He felt like he was separating from himself, like he was sitting in the shadows watching this tragedy unfold. Yet his body still felt numb and so cold. 

 

Tim’s warm scent was suddenly filling his nose and Dick drank it in, whining slightly when he pushed a hand through his unruly hair. Tim leaned forward to kiss Dick’s forehead. “I’ll be back, okay? And when I get back, I’ll have Slade.” 

 

Dick nodded, still trying to figure out  _ how  _ exactly Tim would have Slade. But he decided that if anyone were to do it, it would be Tim. 

 

“Is he really coming?” Dick asked. He voice felt hoarse and he wondered just how long he had been laying there in silence. 

 

“Yes, Dick. He should be here soon.” Bruce answered. 

 

“Is...is that okay?”

 

“Dick,” Bruce spoke, his name was a sigh. “Whatever you need right now is okay.” 

 

Dick opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by a quick knock at the door. The door was pushed open in the next moment and two bodies spilled in. One stayed close to the doorway, but the other was crossing the room. Dick looked up, disentangling from Bruce, recognizing the heavy footfalls even without the boots. A moment later and the alpha’s pheromones filled the air - cloying, calming, unmistakable.

 

“ _ Little bird.”  _ The emotion in Slade’s voice was palpable, his unmasked face creased with worry. 

 

“Slade -” Dick gasped, catching the alpha’s gaze and reaching his arms out. He  _ needed  _ to feel Slade’s arms around him. 

 

Bruce slipped from the bed to allow Slade easier access. Dick fixed him with a wild eyed stare that prevented him from going too far, so he settled gracefully on the edge of the bed while Slade gathered Dick in his arms. 

 

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? What happened?” Slade asked and Dick whimpered, wrapping his arms around Slade’s broad shoulders. 

 

He didn't want to have to say the words. He had hoped someone would have told him before now, had hoped he would be spared having to say them out loud. He clung tighter and felt himself trembling even harder than he had been. He felt less numb than before, the pain of everything coming back sharp and barbed and all at once. His stomach ached, his chest was tight, his eyes stung. He felt like a child. A child who had just lost  _ his  _ child. 

 

“I’m here, baby. Talk to me. Please.” Slade began to rock Dick slightly. 

 

“I-” Dick stopped short, heaving in a huge breath. “I...Slade. I lost-” he cut himself off again, his throat burning. He couldn't get the words out. “ _ Bruce?”  _

 

Slade immediately looked at the other alpha in the room, never having heard Dick sound so terrified. Bruce reached out, rubbing a hand along Dick’s back. 

 

“I can't. I  _ can't.  _ Bruce,  _ please.”  _ Dick begged. He could feel Slade’s heart speeding up where his chest was pressed up to him. Bruce cleared his throat. This wasn't a situation any of them wanted to be in. 

 

“Bruce?” Slade asked, worry causing his voice to crack a bit. 

 

Bruce was silent for too long a moment, not wanting to speak the words either. He took a deep breath, a pit growing in his stomach and threatening to swallow them all whole. He did his best to sound clinical, detached, but he didn't fool anyone. “Last night...Dick was here to stay the night. And. He - miscarried.” 

 

The air left the room and Dick gasped, the words stabbing into his empty stomach. Slade’s arms tightened around him and he brought Dick’s head in to lean against his shoulder as he began sobbing again. The sound was dry, racking. 

 

“ _ Jesus.  _ Dick, oh god. Little wing.” 

 

“I'm sorry. Slade, I'm  _ sorry.”  _ Dick’s voice sounded pinched and he clawed at the shirt Slade was wearing,  trying to get impossibly closer, trying to crawl right into his skin. 

 

“Oh, sweetheart. Don't be sorry. This isn't your  _ fault.”  _

 

Dick was squirming in Slade’s grip, taking huge panting breaths but barely exhaling. Gripping fistfulls of Slade’s shirt, he began to shake violently. 

 

“Dick, calm down. Breathe. It's going to be okay.” 

 

“I can't. I-I ruined this, I…” A disorienting wave of dizziness washed over Dick and he nearly gagged. He tried to grasp at Slade, but his hands had gone numb. “I can't  _ breathe.”  _

 

Dick moaned, clawing at his own chest as through the loose t shirt he was wearing was the cause. There were voices around him again, swirling in his head confusingly. They were asking him to be still, to be calm,  but he was sure he was dying. Here and now, finally, he was  _ sure.  _ He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm the hammering in his chest. His thoughts were spinning,  Slade was going to leave him because of this. His head was pounding and he felt sick.

 

“I can't breathe.” Dick repeated again, his voice sounding dazed and far away. 

 

“He’s having a panic attack.” Slade whispered, brushing some of Dick’s hair back from his face. He tried to offer soothing words and calming pheromones to the broken bird in his lap, but nothing was helping. “Dick, please. You're okay. I've got you. We’re here, Bruce and I. And Tim. No one is leaving you. But you have to try to breathe for me.” 

 

Slade reached tentatively out to place a hand across Dick’s torso, to gently try to calm his breathing. The moment his hand ghosted across Dick’s belly, the omega recoiled harshly, a soft hoarse scream issuing from his lips. It culminated in a sob and a ragged exhale as Dick wrapped his arms around himself and leaned his forehead back against Slade’s shoulder. Slade sunk his fingertips into Dick’s hair, rubbing circles into his scalp. 

 

“Tim.” Bruce called, reaching out to continue rubbing Dick’s back. “Get Alfred.” 

 

The beta was gone in an instant, the door clicking behind him. Dick had begun to mumble incoherently, his words getting snagged and caught on the dull edges of his teeth. The only word that could be made out was repeated over and over -  _ Sorry.  _

 

“Sweetheart, there's not a thing to be sorry about.” It was Slade who was speaking,  peppering Dick’s head with kisses. “It will be okay. We’ll get through this. You'll be okay.” 

 

“No one is upset with you.” Bruce echoed. “We’re here for you. And Alfred is coming with something to help you calm down.” 

 

Dick nodded, appreciating the heat both alphas were providing him. He knew things would be okay, but that didn't help calm his nerves. “I can't breathe.” 

 

“I know, little bird. Just hold out for a few more minutes and you’ll be okay.” Slade’s voice was warm, but tinged with emotion. Bruce couldn't help but look over at him, his one eye shining in the dim light. 

 

“My stomach h-hurts.” Dick whimpered. “I feel sick.” 

 

“I know. You’re okay, Dick.” Bruce began, but didn't get to finish because Alfred hurried into the room carrying a glass of water and a handful of pills. Quickly, he handed them to Slade since Dick was facing in his direction. Slade took them and coaxed Dick into something that resembled a sitting position. 

 

“Can you swallow these for me, little bird? They’ll help you feel better. Let you get some sleep.”

 

Dick took the pills without hesitation, struggling slightly to swallow them. He gulped down a few more mouthfuls of water, his dry throat thanking him. Slade shifted so Dick could lie down next to him, be wrapped up in his arms while he leaned against the headboard. Dick crawled into his arms, trying desperately to stop his choking breaths. He knew the pills would work if he gave them a moment, but that seemed like too long to wait. 

 

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” Dick asked, breaths already beginning to slow. 

 

“Of course, Dick. I'm not going anywhere.” 

 

“I killed our baby. I'm so sorry.” Dick’s words were starting to slur and his eyelids began to droop. 

 

“No, sweetheart, no you didn't.” Slade whispered, but Dick had already fallen asleep. 

 

Slade sat, running a hand up and down Dick’s side while Bruce continued to rub his back. Bruce watched as Slade stared up at the ceiling in this darkness, his own chest starting to hitch. A deep breath betrayed him by sticking in his throat and a few tears fell from his eye, still glinting in the non light. Bruce moved to leave, to give the man his space to deal with the pain as well. 

 

“Slade.” Bruce spoke quietly before he opened the door. “Take care of him. Please, take care of him.” 

 

“I will, Bruce. You have my word.” 

 

*

 

When Dick broke back into consciousness, it was slowly. He clawed through the thick fog of sleep, aware that his pillow was moving slightly. He shifted, cracking his eyes open and finding the room dark. He had no idea what time it was, and for a moment, couldn’t even fathom  _ where _ he was.

 

But a single deep inhale, and the rush of Slade’s scent, and it all came back to him. He swallowed, the arm draped over his alpha’s waist tightening, and suddenly there was a large, warm hand rubbing along his back.

 

“Little bird, are you awake?”

 

Dick gave a single, shallow nod. The movement rubbed his cheek against Slade’s warm chest, and he mimicked it again, letting his eyes fall back shut. He sighed, mumbling in a barely audible tone, “time is it?”

 

“I don’t know,” Slade admitted, his hand continuing to rub Dick’s back. “I’ve been in and out.” Dick knew he meant of sleep- figured that no matter how dead to the world he’d been, he would have known if this man moved. “No one’s come in since you fell asleep.”

 

Dick gave a sigh as his answer that he heard, and let the room lapse into silence again. He didn’t feel the clawing itch under his skin that he had before, and while he knew he still felt  _ sad _ in his very bones, that anxiety ridden hum in his body seemed much duller.

 

And, as if he was in Dick’s head, “Alfred gave you something to help with the anxiety. You had an attack.”

 

Dick didn’t respond at first, before he finally pushed up, sitting very slowly. He nodded, his hair an utter wreck around his face, having dried while he first slept, and then being rumpled again against Slade’s chest. He reached up, combing his fingers through it, like he was  _ self conscious _ . Like he needed to suddenly look decent,  _ presentable _ .

 

Slade reached out, touched but didn’t grab Dick’s wrist, and Dick paused. The man was looking at him with that one heavy eye, and Dick felt like he was dissolving under it. “Dick,” he said, his voice level, not stern nor hard but  _ something akin to it _ .

 

“I look awful,” Dick said, offering a nervous laugh. “Sorry, sorry.” Slade’s stare softened, and he said Dick’s name again, gentler now. Dick felt his throat going a little tight over that, his belly turning. “You didn’t need to come all the way out here for me to be a mess and… and…”

 

He hiccuped, and dammit  _ no _ , he couldn’t cry again. He had nothing left in him. But the moment the broken breath was out, Slade was leaning in, wrapping his arms around Dick. He pulled the omega in, who rested his cheek on Slade’s shoulder. Despite feeling miserable, Dick noticed that he didn’t  _ cry _ , and at least there was that…

 

“I’m sorry,” Dick mumbled, and whatever he was apologizing for, he didn’t even know. There was so much- the baby, the wreck he was, he  _ had been _ , just-

 

“Stop it, Dick,” Slade offered, turning and kissing his messy hair. “ _ Please _ . You didn’t… this wasn’t your fault. I know it feels like it is, but it’s  _ not _ . You’re still recovering from the shock.”

 

“Gentle way of saying I’m irrational?” Dick asked, and Slade shook his head.

 

“No. Whatever hurts you right now is rational. But this was not your fault.” Dick reached up, clutched loosely at Slade’s shirt, eyes settling on the closed door and choosing to stare there.

 

“I wanted our baby,” Dick admitted, “I wanted our baby and I just got to  _ realize _ that and then… and then…” He hiccuped, but again, there were no tears. “It’s not  _ fair _ .”

 

“It’s not,” Slade agreed, his hand moving up, cupping the back of Dick’s neck now. A little pressure, and his thumb was rubbing a knot out that Dick had no idea how the alpha knew was there. He bent his head, pressed his mouth into Dick’s hair again and stared there in silence, simply holding him. It drew out, lapsed, waned- but found life again, and Dick didn’t want to break it. It was what he needed, then, to collect himself.

 

To reconcile that he had wanted this child, that he had come to accept it- and the moment he had, it was ripped from him. That he’d barely had time to even digest being  _ pregnant _ before he  _ wasn’t _ \- and god, would it have wracked him so badly had he had more time? Would it have been  _ worse _ ?

 

Dick pushed himself up, breaking Slade’s hold on him. He settled on his knees, weight back towards his heels, reaching out for Slade’s hands. He took them, squeezed, and it was only then that Dick noticed the very corner of Slade’s eye was wet. He felt his chest tightening up, and gave his hands a firmer, longer squeeze.

 

“Thank you for being here,” he offered, and then- because he had to think it, had to think this way or he’d fall right back into despair, “And thank you for being here tomorrow. And the next day. I know I’m… I’m not okay. And I won’t be for a while.”

 

Slade nodded, lifted one of their joined hands and kissed Dick’s knuckles. His beard scratched against his hand, but his mouth remained longer than usual, and Dick could see the alpha was composing himself as his eye fell shut for a moment. “It’s okay,” he offered then, opening his eye back up to glance at Dick. “One day at a time.”

 

Dick nodded, taking a slow breath. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Anything, little bird.”

 

Dick licked his lips. “Did you want this baby?” It felt unfair to ask, and Dick knew that, but- he just  _ had _ to know. He knew how Slade had reacted, the doubts the man had- and his support. But that didn’t mean he would have chosen this, himself.

 

Slade was quiet for a moment, and Dick almost feared he wouldn’t answer. But then, very slowly, “I’m not a good father,” echoing his previous statements. Dick cast his eyes down, but Slade continued, “But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have been a father to our baby. That I don’t want another chance.”

 

Dick glanced back up then, and in a rushed breath, before he could even  _ think _ , “I still want a family with you.” Slade squeezed Dick’s hands, and Dick glanced down at them, rubbing his thumbs along Slade’s hands. “Someday. I’m not… ready now. I need time. But one day…”

 

“You take as much time as you need, little bird.” Slade gave a gentle tug, and Dick moved, fell back into his arms. He wrapped them around Slade’s neck, as the alpha’s went around his waist, held him firmly. Safely. “When you’re ready, I’ll still be here. I’ll always be here.”

 

And Dick believed it. In that moment, he could. He figured he’d have bouts still where he  _ didn’t _ , knew that there would be good days and bad for a while to come- but at the end of it, Slade would still be there with him. He’d have that support, that adoration and affection he had craved for so long. Time would mend the wounds,  _ love _ would keep them stitched shut. And Dick knew not just Slade’s he’d have the endless support from Tim that he’d had thus far- Damian’s comfort and Alfred’s all-knowing presence-

 

And even Bruce, in the way Dick always needed, despite what he had craved.

 

He’d be okay. In time, everything would be okay.


End file.
